#sunset over ocean painting easy

[caitified]

We need an entire wedding series w CC. Like I need the planning, wedding day, wedding dance, honeymoon

Just ahhh 🙃

planning

caitlin clark x reader

warnings:none, part of wedding series so more to come! part 1 here

after caitlin proposed on that breathtaking hawaiian beach, it felt like the world was spinning in slow motion. you could hardly believe that moment was real—caitlin down on one knee, the ocean behind her, a sunset painting everything golden. the ring on your finger sparkled, but nothing compared to the joy in her eyes as she slipped it on.

when you both got back home, the excitement settled in a new way. you weren’t just dating anymore; you were planning a life together. every day, you’d catch her looking at you, a small smile playing at her lips, and she’d say something like, “can you believe we’re getting married?” and every time, it felt as surreal as the first moment.

the wedding planning started with the big question: when. with her WNBA season and your own schedule, finding the perfect date was no easy task. you’d both sit on the couch in sweatpants, laptops open, scrolling through possible dates and venues. caitlin was surprisingly involved, even though she’d joke, “whatever you want, babe.” but you knew she cared. she’d light up whenever you talked about a potential outdoor ceremony or discussed which season would give you the most beautiful photos.

“okay, what if we go for fall?” you suggested one evening, looking up at her. “the colors, the cool air—it could be perfect.”

she looked thoughtful, then nodded with a grin. “yeah, i can see that. plus, i can rock a nice suit without sweating through it,” she teased, making you laugh.

from there, you both started envisioning an autumn wedding. caitlin was all about the cozy, romantic vibe, wanting a venue with warm lighting, candles everywhere, and an intimate feel. you spent hours browsing through ideas together, sending each other links to florists, photographers, and little details you thought would make the day perfect.

one evening, she surprised you with a notebook filled with ideas. “i know you’re handling a lot of the details, but i had some thoughts,” she said, handing it to you. flipping through it, you saw pages of handwritten notes—ideas for vows, table decor, a song list for the reception. it was thoughtful, heartfelt, and completely unexpected.

“cait, this is amazing,” you whispered, looking up at her with tears in your eyes. “you really thought about all this?”

she shrugged, blushing slightly. “of course. it’s our day. i want it to be everything you’ve dreamed of.”

from there, the planning became more than just tasks to check off. it was late-night conversations about how you wanted the ceremony to feel, choosing songs that held special meaning, and even playfully arguing over cake flavors. caitlin insisted on chocolate; you had your heart set on lemon. eventually, you compromised, deciding on a tiered cake that offered both flavors.

there were plenty of moments that reminded you why you’d fallen for her in the first place. she kept things light, making jokes when you got stressed about the guest list or when the florist didn’t respond quickly enough. and whenever you felt overwhelmed, she’d pull you close, press a kiss to your forehead, and remind you that, at the end of the day, it was about you and her, nothing else.

one of the most special parts was finding your dress. caitlin came with you, sitting outside the dressing rooms with a grin as she waited for each reveal. the second you walked out in the one, her expression softened, and she couldn’t stop staring. “you look incredible,” she whispered, reaching out to take your hands. “i can’t wait to marry you.”

her suit fitting was just as memorable. she wanted something classic but with a twist—something that felt uniquely her. when she finally settled on a deep navy suit with subtle detailing, you knew she’d look amazing, and she absolutely did. she showed off, giving you a playful twirl, and you laughed, knowing how much you adored her.

as the day grew closer, it felt more real. your families met, sharing stories and toasts at a casual dinner. seeing her interact with your family, laughing and bonding, made you fall in love with her all over again. it felt like your worlds were merging, coming together perfectly.

finally, after months of planning, the night before the wedding arrived. you stood outside on a quiet balcony, nerves and excitement tangled up inside you, when she found you. “hey,” she said softly, slipping her hand into yours.

“hey,” you replied, leaning into her warmth. the world felt perfect in that moment, the two of you wrapped up in each other as you prepared for the biggest step of your lives.

she looked down at you, her eyes filled with so much love, and brushed a thumb over your cheek. “ready to start forever?” she asked, her voice soft, full of everything that had led you here.

you nodded, a smile spreading across your face as you looked up at her. “ready as i���ll ever be.”

thanks for reading! requests open, more to come.

[murfeelee]

TS3 vs TS4 Features - Supernatural

I saw @moonbiscuitsims' comment here about how EA added "way more features" in their TS4 occult packs, and I wanted to talk about it in depth, cuz that's a misleading statement. Y'all know TS4's my trigger.

Cuz yes, on paper, EA offers a LOT of stuff in TS4 packs. But the saying goes: as broad as an ocean and as deep as a puddle. 😬 QUALITY, versus QUANTITY, which is crucial for replayability, customization, variability, and ultimate longevity. And another thing is the TIMEFRAME that that content was released. Sure, if it takes you 10 years to develop/dripfeed your frikkin game, ofc you can add more content over more packs; than if you'd just stuck to ONE dedicated pack, developed it in 1-2 years, and given people arguably BETTER, if not MORE content.

My gut reaction's to say EA had BETTER be offering more content! 😤 Not even to justify the ridiculous pricetag or anything, but for the simple fact that TS4's supposed to be NEXT GEN. It's SUPPOSED to be bigger & better than everything that came before it. Why are we sitting here for 10 years with TS4 if it ain't gonna increase ANYTHING but my rising blood pressure & trust issues?!

So Imma just examine TS3 SN in comparison with TS4's packs, and give my take on what's been going on, from 2012 (SN EP) to now.

Missing Features: TS4 Fairies

A fairy was the very first sim I ever made in TS3 back in 2009 (my avatar sim, Sakura). Watching the SN announcement trailer for the first time dang near made me cry. TS4 could never; moving on.

Missing Features: TS4 Zombies & Toadsims

TS4 Tragic Clowns are a W for the apple juggling & costume. I think EA was lazy by slacking on the clown just cuz he's already dead in Sunset Valley; and I guess they don't expect players to resurrect his ghost. SN EP did nothing to actually improve/expand him, just creating the alchemy Clown Potion; I guess to better integrate fishing the Clownfish into the lore.

TS4 Vampires GP (2017)

This is an easy one. I've said since TS3 Late Night EP (2010) that TS3's vampires are utter dogtrash, and the SN EP did eff all to patch/improve them, and I will die on that hill (until someone figures out how to give convert TS4's functional coffins & vampire fights & special FX). Compared to every other occult, I have more mods installed just to try to fix how effing busted & stupid vamps are; and these sparkling Twilight dumb AF bloodsuckers STILL get on my dang nerves.

IMO, TS4 Vampires is hands down the best pack EA ever made for TS4. 10/10, the attention they put in that pack outclasses darn near everything else they did until TS4 Seasons. Undisputed W, yes. 👏

TS4 Realm of Magic GP (2019)

Disputed W. I gave it an 8/10 at BEST, cuz magic/fantasy's a win, but I am disappointed. If this had been a home run for EA, I'd've shut my dang mouth, ISTG. But alas. I went on a long AF tirade against RoM when I realized that a lot of its so-called "new" features were things we could already do in TS4, with a flashy coat of paint--let alone things TS3 & the SN EP did, and better. Some things I didn't mention though:

Muggles who ask spellcasters how to do magic are sent on a fetch quest for Magic Motes, which is EXACTLY what the ITF EP Time Traveler occult Emit Revelart makes normies do to, finding Power Cells to learn how to use the Time Portal.

The Witch's perks/ranks system works just like the Vampires one, so kudos to EA for not fixing something that ain't broke I guess.

The Spells: At MTS I actually broke down what each of TS4's spellcasters do that's largely nothing sims couldn't do in TS3, even before SN came out (via SHT Genies or SSNS Aliens, or the Store).

TS3 Witches (let alone other lifestates) can do most of this either through alchemy or inherited features from older TS3 packs. This was a huge RoM dealbreaker for me, as I'd been hoping for WAY more innovative features in TS4's spells--the whole point of Spellcasters--than just an elaborate set of cheats. TS3's Witch's main features are fewer, but far more cohesive, IMO. (Granted, NONE of the packs holds a single candle to the GOAT that is TS1's Makin Magic, which had WAY more features than TS2, TS3 & TS4; and was CHEAPER. But I digress.)

There's no unique features with TS3/TS4 wands; they act the same way; the effects are just different, and TBH I'm not a fan of either--I wish wand/magic FXs could be modded in different colors at least (like BLACK 😈). But I DO like that in TS4 they can duel for rewards.

TS4 brooms do EFF ALL in a closed world; EA made them exactly they way they were in TS2, with zero innovation. (IIRC kids can't even use them--EA's hatred for kids & elders ALMOST matches MY hatred of EA.)

IMO beekeeping doesn't count, cuz TS3 included it as a small feature for alchemy ingredients in the SN EP, while TS4 integrated it far better in SSNS to work with gardening, which is genius.

Speaking of SSNS, there's the Weather Stone that only appears if you have both SN & SSNS, so occults can conjure magical weather effects over the whole world. (I'll talk about the best perk under Crystals SP.)

Familiars are the certified W for me with RoM. They're the best & most unique & most well-thought out & feature of the GP, IMO. ❤️

Extra TS4 features I think are supremely cool are spellcasters' books floating whenever they read anything. And their cauldrons have much cooler animations, and I'm so jealous that y'all can cook food in them; EA should've added that to the Store Cauldron, although I guess I understand why they didn't in the SN EP Alchemy Cauldron.

A lot of RoM's features are wrapped around Glimmerbrook. Access to Glimmerbrook comes with the Glimmer Stone key--and I WOULD use that as a segue into the Crystals SP, but I'll hold off. I already vented about Glimmerbrook in my Werewolves GP rant--but I'll get to that in a minute, too. The bigger issue is what even constitutes a TS4 "world"--those non-customizeable tiny AF clusters of tiny AF lots and huge swaths of decorative set dressing--let alone the Diagon Alley ripoff EA loves promoting like I was born yesterday and never saw Harry Potter. GORGEOUS realm, of course, like many EA worlds are. But they're largely just set-dressing, which irritates me to no end.

TS4 Paranormal SP (2021)

I've ranted & raved about Paranormal before: 7/10 at best.

TS4 Seances with the crystal ball work very differently from TS3's Soothsayer's Crystal Ball, which wasn't about banishing ghosts, but improving progression for SN's Witches & Fortune Telling (career). Fortune Telling's NOT a ghostly job, although the boho aesthetic carried over to TS4 Paranormal. (On top of the fact that they promised this whole NOLA Voodoo vibe, but delivered ZERO cultural accurate features reflecting ANYTHING from Haitian Voodoo, wtf? It's all hippie boho New Age BS--why TF does the tutorial ghost look more like Johnny Depp and less like Dr. Facilier, I ask you, EA.) Granted, some of the interactive objects are nice, like the calming dollbaby & magic candles to purify lots--kinda like TS3 incense. But again: 1-trick ponies. Yes, the animations look great, but crystal balls are typically for divination, asking spirits about the past/present/future, not removing haunting poltergeists, so I don't really get it. Stylish & gorgeous! But GENERIC AF substance-wise.

IMO, TS4's Ghosts are an L across the board; all the way from the base game--that bafflingly launched in 2014 WITHOUT ghosts until they were patched in a whole month later after everyone rose a stink (IIRC TS4 kids can't be ghosts!?)--to present. EA's been over/course-correcting from that gaffe ever since, with like double the amount of Death types than TS3. I DO NOT like how TS4 ghosts colors are tied to Eeemotionnsss~! (more like they're a sentient Plumbbob). TBF, kudos to TS4's smoky cloudy effect when ghosts appear. But the lack of unique deaths & ghost types in RoM (aside from Spellcaster Overload & the Night Wraith) made me roll my eyes, as SN EP's ghost types are some of my faves (ITF & SHT are also my top 3).

IIRC it was the SN patch that unlocked all types in (basegame?) CAS to make playable Ghosts. SN's Philosopher's Stone allows sims to summon new playable Ghosts (and ofc allows for transmutating cheap objects into gold ingots--more on that later), or it can just kill you and make YOU the new ghost, LOL.

But as for features, sure, TS4 ghosts have more interactions--though they're all pretty, rather than scary (vs TS2 ghosts, which were SCARY). TS4 ghosts lost the HORROR to just be silly/goofy or just CUTESY--especially the little spectres from Paranormal.

Speaking of horror, I can't talk about ghosts w/out bringing up TS3's AMB EP, cuz the Ghost Hunter (profession) is the real parallel with TS4's Paranormal Investigator (freelancer). In TS3, they actually stuck to their promised main premise (Ghostbusters). Overall, TS4 Seances are nowhere near as fluid as TS3 ghostbusting. In TS3 you can run all over the world using gidgets-gadgets to detect/fight ghosts & sprites, not just inside haunted houses, but anywhere they happen to spawn (ofc inc. graveyards). You're not just locked to a lot/house the player already knows is haunted (cuz you just toggle Haunted Lot to trigger the feature--SN's Ghost Gnome object isn't exactly the same, but it does spawn hauntings on the lots you put them in). ANY TS3 indoor/outdoor residential/community lot can randomly get haunted during a Ghost Hunter's shift; and you never know which one it'll be, or what kind of shenanigans will happen--EVIL ghost or just some sprites--which skyrockets replayability & keeps things fresh & interesting.

Functionally, Paranormal had no right to be that dang good for a Stuff Pack. That was a Game Pack; IDKY EA insists otherwise; esp. when it offered more & better things than some actual GPs. I'm confused. However, a serious problem TS4 has is that it gameifies everything to the point that TS4's numerous features lose their spontaneity, and just become rote--BORING. The ectoplasm everywhere just becomes another mess in your (haunted) house you have to clean--CHORES. On top of me not liking TS4 ghosts' look & vibe (and I HATE TS4's Bonehilda). Quality over quantity, EA!

TS4 Werewolves GP (2022)

Speaking of ghosts, waaaay back in 2020 I told the spirits precisely what I wanted from a potential Werewolf dedicated TS4 pack. Did they listen? HAYUL NAW. So in 2022 I said everything I had to say about the Werewolves GP, and accepted the fact that EA's INEPT.

Do TS4's wolves have MORE features than TS3? YES ofc (even in 2012 everyone complained that Witches & Faeries got the lion's share & Werewolves got shafted--they're basically glorified Familiars for Witches/Alchemist to find collectibles--more on that below). But was most of it GOOD features though? Debatable! I LOATHE the 2 wolf packs, which was what I'd most looked forward to; plus the whole world's aesthetic was ugly homeless-grunge, without a single bit of creativity or originality--only EA could make monsters as terrifying as werewolves effing cartoony hipster squatters. 🤦 7/10 at best.

TS4 Crystals SP (2024)

These crystals are ugly, EA. Which is weird, cuz the basegame TS4 gems & esp. space rocks are GORGEOUS. I have no idea which vision-impaired dev at EAxis thought these nasty looking opaque poorly-painted rocks were pretty.

Features-wise, granted, having TS4's bonafide Gemology skill from the Crystals SP's nice, instead of TS3's basegame hidden Collector skill. But the functioanlity's largely the same: cut more, unlock more (which I prefer to cheat my way through--TS3 thinks I have time for all this gameplay, LOL). (Not to mention all the extra features TS3's Aliens, Simbots & Plumbbots have when interacting with gems, space rocks, or metals.) TS4 only got 10 gem cuts for 27 crystals (=270), (+25 metals); compared to TS3's 16 gem cuts for 28 gems (=448), (+16 metals with their own separate ingots). Of TS4's 10 cuts, the Skull Cut is the ONLY one I think looks better (ignoring the atrociously flat textures ofc) than TS3's (which TS4 copy/pasted--no agates, no crystal ball, wtf).

The Garden Gnome cut isn't unique to TS4, as TS3 has several craftable (glass-only) Garden Gnome cut from the Glassblowing Machine (more on that soon).

The only TS3 gem that genuinely affects sims is radioactive Tiberium from the WA EP, so more features is definitely a plus. The best addition is TS4's Charging Grid feature--I LOVE that TS4 crystals can be imbued with magic energy--it's like TS3's Store Crystal Tree, ITF EP's magic crystal plants & the SN EP Mood Lamp all rolled into one. @greenplumbboblover's WIP Interests & Hobbies mod brainstormed integrating that functionality that back in 2020.

The functionality of the TS3 SN EP Gem Cutter & the TS4 Crystal Tree are similar, though ofc the tree's wallet & eco-friendly; and it's a plant, not a hunk of machinery, so it naturally has that going for it.

There's also the SN-SSNS Weather Stone, which gives werewolves the ability to summon a Hunter's Storm, raining a hail of gems, rocks & metals over the whole world for easy loot farming. (The best perk, though my fave is the Faeries' Reviving Sprinkle for gardening.)

Aside from SN, TS3's real equivalent is actually the Prism Art Studio Venue's Artisan skill. Cuz the REAL seller's the jewellery-making. There's ~100 CAS items in Crystals SP (plus 30+ regular Build/Buy mode objects). At $10, the Crystals SP is a steal, at least when compared to the BONKERS $20 tag on TS3's Prism Art Studio at the Store (2014). IIRC the Glassblowing Machine newly added 16 craftable CAS items & 13 craftable glass objects (as SN already gave us the Gem-Cutting Machine & AMB already gave us the Widgets work station); and 8 Build/Buy objects (inc. the goated L-shaped "spiral" stairs). It also added 5 craftable Perfumes for sims to use.

So while the Crystals SP added NICE features, I wouldn't say they added MORE features. Rather, they added more content: Quantity. But as for Quality, I think TS3 beats it out--the Prism Studio's a effing ripoff, but AFAIK it added features TS4 still doesn't have yet (craftable glassblowing & perfumes, spiral stairs); and the objects it did add are pretty nifty.

Timeframe-wise, we got the 2014 Prism Art Studio's Glassblower 2 years after the SN EP's Gem-Cutter; 5 years after the 2009 basegame. Compared to TS4's wait for the Crystals SP 2 years after Werewolves, 3 after Paranormal, 5 after RoM; and a whopping DECADE after the basegame launched in 2014. Wtf, EA?

Still, I'd say the Crystal SP's a 7/10 (there's not enough gem cuts, the gems textures are ugly, and most of the features were lifted from things TS3 had innovated 10+ years earlier).

TL;DR

Quantity =/= Quality.

EA's been taking way too long releasing packs to have the nerve to present debatable content--it should be goated releases EVERY time; esp. since everyone agrees TS4 is easier to create content for, so much smaller in scale/scope, and with an infinitely larger budget & fanbase than The Sims franchise ever had. There's zero excuse for EAxis' mediocrity, when TS3 was churning out EPs like it's life depended on it: SHT, SN, and SSNS all came out the SAME EFFING YEAR. 2012 was LIT.

EA, you suck.

[insidekatmind]

Best friends- Pope Heyward

Wearning: +18, smut, cheating,english is not my first language

The soft lights of the sunset paint the horizon in shades of orange and pink as you sit on your porch, a book open in your hands. The air is crisp, with a light breeze carrying the salty scent of the ocean. You're engrossed in your reading when you hear the familiar sound of hurried footsteps on the path leading to your house. You look up and see Pope, his expression troubled and his fists clenched at his sides.

“Can I come in?” he asks without preamble, his voice rougher than usual.

You set the book down next to you, concerned. “Of course, what’s wrong?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. He climbs the porch steps, his movements quick and jittery. When he stops in front of you, you notice the flush on his cheeks and the slight tremor in his hands.

“It’s Cleo,” he says finally, crossing his arms over his chest as if trying to contain something too heavy to hold. “We had a fight. A bad one.”

You stand up, gesturing toward the door. “Come inside, let’s talk about it.”

He nods and follows you in, collapsing onto the couch in your living room. You bring him a glass of water, which he accepts with a small nod of thanks. He takes a sip in silence, then runs a hand through his hair—a gesture you know well. It’s his way of trying to calm himself down.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” you ask, sitting next to him, close enough to let him know you’re there for him but not so close as to invade his space.

He sighs, a deep and tired sound. “It started as something stupid, at least at first. We were talking about plans for the weekend, and I said I wanted to spend it with you guys, with the Pogues. She started saying we spend too much time together and that I should dedicate more time to just the two of us.”

You nod, trying to see both sides. “And what did you say?”

“That there’s nothing wrong with wanting to spend time with my friends. But then she got upset and said I never put her first.” He pauses, shaking his head. “It’s not true, but… I don’t know, maybe I messed up somewhere.”

You look at him with gentle understanding, seeing the weight he carries on his shoulders. “Pope, you know how much Cleo cares about you. But maybe she needs to feel more secure in your affection. Maybe your words made her think you don’t care enough.”

He lifts his gaze to meet yours, his dark eyes filled with frustration and pain. “But that’s not true. I do care, so much. I just… sometimes I don’t know how to show it.”

You place a hand on his arm, your touch light but reassuring. “You don’t have to have all the answers right away. Sometimes it’s just about listening to the other person and trying to understand them.”

He leans back against the couch, closing his eyes for a moment. “Why does everything have to be so complicated? I thought being with someone was supposed to be easier.”

You shake your head with a wistful smile. “Relationships are never easy, Pope. But if they’re worth it, you work to make them work.”

For a moment, silence fills the room, broken only by the sound of the waves in the distance. Then he leans slightly toward you, his gaze now softer but also more intense. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, you know? You’re always here for me, even when I don’t have a clue what I’m doing.”

Your heart beats a little faster at his words, but you try to stay calm. “That’s what friends are for, Pope.”

He offers a faint smile, a tired but genuine one. “You’re more than a friend to me, you know that?”

Your breath catches for a moment. “What do you mean?”

He moves closer, his face now only inches from yours. “I mean… I don’t know when it started, but lately, I can’t stop thinking about you. Every time I’m with Cleo, part of me just wants to be here, with you.”

His words leave you speechless. You search his eyes, trying to discern whether he’s confused or sincere. But there’s no doubt in his gaze, only honesty.

“Pope…” you start, but he cuts you off.

“I don’t want you to think I’m using you to get over Cleo. It’s not that. But tonight, when we fought, all I wanted was to come here. To be with you.”

Before you can respond, he leans in and presses his lips to yours. It’s a kiss that starts tentative, almost unsure, but as you respond, it deepens into something more intense, more passionate. His hands rest on your waist, pulling you closer, and for a moment, the world around you fades away.

When you finally pull apart, both of you breathless, he looks at you with a kind of reverence tinged with uncertainty. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…”

You did not let him finish because you have re-cut your lips with his. You sucked his lip whining moaning.

Pope lies you on the couch while he takes off your clothes and then takes off his.

Pope looks at you for a moment to confirm that you want to do it, and you nod.

You moaned at how big and long Pope’s dick was. He smiled and kissed you softly, then came in with a quick blow, making both of them groan.

"You’re tighter than I imagined," Pope muttered as he began to move.

You groaned and then caught your lips with him

As the impulses of Pope increased fucking you with force venting all his anger and all his passion that had at that moment.

You could only groan with force while your pussy held Pope’s cock tightly making him moan while he fucked you harder while he chewed your neck leaving spots and bruises but you didn’t care, you were enjoying and getting even more excited at the same time.

You scratched his back feeling how it was destroying your pussy and left big scratches behind his back but neither of them cared, too taken by the moment and how you were fucking so well.

"you’re fucking me so well" You whimpered and he growled as he felt your pussy tighten even more around his cock two more shots and made you come then follow you by wheel cumming inside.

"the best sex of my life" he murmured as he joined your lips with hers again.

Pope still had his dick inside you and you felt it was getting hard again and you moaned as you were watching and stroked his hair.

"Round two?" He whispered and you smiled nodding

[taomyou]

a sip of sunshine - chapter one (A)

!! minors dni !! pairing: levi ackerman/reader word count: 22,458 sypnosis: Life is not easy, and Levi’s made peace with the fact that it never will be. And, yet, as the days pass and he comes to enjoy the company of the baker across town, he learns that the sun will always continue to shine, no matter how unworthy he feels to bask in its warmth. - or, Levi learns to be okay with drinking shitty tea. tags: postcanon, canon universe, birthday, angst, fluff, friends to lovers, slow burn, found family, survivor guilt, eventual romance, eventual smut, character study, grumpy/sunshine, hurt/comfort, bakery, tea, meet-cute, no y/n, pov levi ackerman, not beta read a/n: no smut in this chapter, will be in chapter two. also sorry this took a while to crosspost www. this chapter is also being broken up into two parts because it exceeds the text limit, this is the FIRST half (,,>﹏<,,) accompanying playlist || ao3

chapter one: white peony beauty, bashfulness | shame, apology

Though Levi never imagined ever making it past 20, nevermind past 30…

If Levi ever had dreams of what his life would be like when he’d turn 40, he certainly never would’ve imagined this.

This where his days are occupied by nothing.

All his life, he’s had to fight for more—for more resources, for more time, for more freedom. Between fiending for food and fighting to keep himself from crumbling, never was there time to even think about nothing.

And, now, with the War finally laid to rest alongside his fallen comrades, Levi finally has the time to do what meaningless things he couldn’t during his time as his mother’s son and Kenny’s mentee and the Underground’s most notorious thug and Humanity’s Strongest Soldier.

For the first time in his life, he’s free.

And because he doesn’t know how to be that, he does nothing.

But that’s fine with him. He’s hardly concerned with the fact that he’s as boring as he always was, and there’s plenty of other parts of this life that hardly make any sense to him.

This where the weather—the sky—is equally as tranquil as the morning birdsong.

He tips his head back to gaze at the sun above often, but he seldom ever finds the clouds he expects to be blocking it.

Instead, he’s met with a sky so painfully big and bright and blue, he fears he may tear up if he looks too long.

Yet, all he does is stare.

The breeze is never still, nor is it harsh, and the air is never as disgustingly muggy as he grew to believe it always was. He’d breathed fresh air when he first came to the Surface, but that feeling doesn’t hold a candle to the now crisp, everchilling wind that clears his sinuses and blows his hair in every which direction whenever he steps outside of the quaint farmhouse he now resides in. There's a weathervane perched atop his roof in the shape of a horse that points him in the direction of the stars, and Levi'd painted it black to match the stallion he'd trusted with his life so long ago.

Though, even if he has come to enjoy the presence of birds as they fly overhead to the south, he’ll never truly get over the stains their shit leaves on his outdoor tables and chairs.

Fucking bastards.

This where the sea meets that same sky he once dreamed of seeing.

Scarcely ever does he ever go to the ocean to view the sky from the sand, but in the rare moments that Mikasa requests his presence at the shore, Levi lets himself get lost in the way the clear blue fades to red and orange and purple and pink as the hours pass. The colors bleed into themselves, yet Levi can still discern where they start and end. Even with only one fully functional eye, he can see the pigmented stains in the sunset.

Sometimes, he’ll see green, but that might just be because Mikasa speaks castles about the emeralds she finds in her memories of Eren’s eyes.

They’d always reminded him of Isabel’s, though, so maybe it’s her that he sees when the sun falls in the west.

Where the sea meets the sky, the waves brush up white water, leaving salt marks on the treads of his wheelchair, and while Mikasa holds her scarf to her eyes as she weeps, Levi wishes he had more time to dream with his friends of what life would be like along this very shoreline. Whether or not they’d enjoy the crisp salt air, he has no idea, but he has no doubt that they would’ve spent all their free time watching this very horizon, waiting for the night to find excuse to take themselves to the bar and drink their hearts away.

He supposes that’s why he refuses to come to the sea alone.

Mikasa shoulders his grief, just as he shoulders hers.

This where carrots and cabbages and all other crops are growing just outside his house, and are brought to life with his own hands and those of his loved ones.

When he’d first moved in, he refused to tend to the plants already there. He was exhausted enough after hauling all of his shit in (which, admittedly, wasn’t much to begin with, but you try to move furniture in a new house with fresh wounds), and he’d be lying if he said he craved responsibility after all his years of leading soldiers to their deaths in the Corps.

But as time went on and Levi realized his hands weren’t as marred by blood as he thought they were, he opened up to the idea, and, one day, he found himself simply accustomed to watering sprouting stalks, taking note of the seasons, and planning his meals around what he could harvest from the earth in his backyard.

It’s hardly easy, mostly because he can barely stand to be hunched over the garden for longer than a few short hours at a time, but he holds himself to it. He hasn’t been as strict with upkeep lately, as it’s hardly worth the effort to keep the plants from browning in the winter, but he already knows what he’s going to plant in the new year.

In particular, Springer forces Levi to keep at it, constantly threatening to buy out the extra farmland from him. Levi knows that piece of shit isn’t rich enough to even own his own property, much less buy out this farm, but it’s motivation enough to know that the soldier-turned-ambassador will risk his safety to push Levi to be consistent in his farming duties.

Gabi and Falco help, too. Those kids are over at his house during practically all hours of the day, fussing about and asking Levi to regale what parts of his life he’s found joy in while they help carry buckets of mulch and water.

He’s grateful that they don’t ask about anything else, but the fact remains that they fucking suck at making marks in the soil, so don’t get it twisted and say that he’s gone soft.

He takes care of this garden because he has to, not because he feels any personal desire to do so.

Besides, Onyankopon took fucking forever to build up all the furrows a bit above ground level to allow Levi the ease of not having to fully squat to reach the earth. Levi refuses to let that labor go to waste and leave the heightened dirt barren.

This where he can lay in a bed that’s always comfortable and clean, never sullied by the sinking weight of the grief he carries with him in the daytime.

Sleep doesn't come any easier now than it did before. When he can’t get his mind to rest easily (which is more often than he’d care to admit), he sits in the chair at the corner of his bedroom with his eyes closed, burdening the wood with the weight of his blood-soaked soul. His mind runs wild in the nighttime nearly every day, replaying memories he only wishes to remember in memoriam of those he’s lost, but Levi refuses to lay between his sheets until he knows he will not dirty them with his sorrow.

He’d already ruined the dirty cot he had as a child with the grief of his mother and her work, the bed he had occupied during his time as a hardened criminal with the blood of his adversaries, the bed he was given in the Corps with the guilt of not being able to protect those he loved. This bed, the one with white sheets and the smell of lavender sprigs, Levi decides, will not be laid in unless he’s sure he won’t ruin it with his memories.

To everyone else, it’s foolish, but after all is said and done, he knows his bed will be there, and though he seldom gets to sleep in it, that is enough for him.

To have a bed, unmarred by the parts of his soul he wishes to save for his conscious self.

This where his tea is always warm, always the same.

Prior to this life, he never thought he’d be afforded the luxury of having something familiar. War changed far too much for a man like him, burdened with the heartache of the world, and to think that he has hot water, the same tea leaves he’d enjoyed in Paradis, and a kitchen where he can sit and watch the steam spill out of a ceramic teapot he’d brought with him from across the sea.

It’s more than enough.

And perhaps it's because, apart from his own memories and the scars that follow, he’s lost everything else reminiscent of his life before all this.

He never dare venture into new blends, new ingredients, new anything—his tea has, and will always, remain the same, because the fear of letting go of the one thing that’s stayed the same is far too great for him to part ways with the mundane routine.

Besides, there’s no guarantee that he’d be able to have another cup of tea to begin with, so he’s better off sticking to what works. All else has changed—why steer from that and disrupt the harmony of what remains of himself?

And, right now, this where he’s forced to take a seat at his dining table during high noon, and Gabi and Falco put two boxes in front of him. On the left, one that’s smaller and wrapped in golden paper, and on the right, a plain, white box that’s about the size of his head, and held together with slotted pieces.

It’s probably housing some sort of baked good—Braus used to sneak back boxes like this when they’d all first arrived in Marley.

All this isn’t to say that Levi is ungrateful in the slightest. The routine, the sky, the sea, the garden, the bed, the tea—all of it, is finally his. He never would’ve imagined they’d one day belong to him, but he’s here now, and this is his life, even if all these things don’t feel like they’re his.

It’s just that he never would’ve imagined that he’d be here, especially as he’s faced with the daunting sight of two children, now taller standing than he is sitting down, looking to him and waiting for him to open… whatever it is that they’ve brought him.

“What are these for?”

“They’re your birthday presents!” Gabi exclaims, a bright smile on her face. The slight movement of her hair as she speaks makes a flower fall from where it’s tucked behind her ear, and Falco rushes to pick it up from the floor and put it back in its place.

After a bit more shuffling, the boy then clears his throat and looks toward Levi, a nervous smile on his face. “We hope you like them. Happy birthday, Levi.”

Levi hasn’t celebrated anything, never mind his birthday, in years. He didn’t even realize it was today himself.

How they even know his birthday, he has no idea, but he supposes that word gets around when you’re Humanity’s Strongest.

More likely, before he’d set sail to tend to his ambassador duties, Arlert found his date of birth during the latest file restoration, and told these two to get Levi something.

Good call on his part. If he’d sent anyone else, Levi’d be quick to turn them away and tell them to spend their money on better things than him.

Not that he doesn’t still think that, but he doesn’t have the heart to tell Gabi and Falco that he doesn’t need anything for his birthday, much-less that he wants to celebrate it in the first place. 

He isn’t even sure if he can unwrap these presents on his own—trying to peel away the clear tape that gleams underneath the kitchen light doesn’t exactly sound easy or pleasant, especially considering the fact he’s never tried doing anything like this since losing his right pointer and middle fingers. Hange used to wrap his birthday presents with the strongest industrial tape they could find, and even when he’d had full use of both his hands, he could barely pry the tape off those fucking things.

For a brief second, Levi imagines that if they were still alive, they’d have jumped at the chance to do this for him. To unwrap his presents for him and force him to celebrate his birthday, just like they and Erwin used to before any of the three of them even knew there was a land across the sea. Maybe they’d even joke that they’d be his replacement digits, or try to design something to be that for him, and Erwin would scold them for forcing their ideas onto Levi.

He misses them both a lot.

Levi curtly nods at the offerings on the table, and at the children’s continued and insistent encouragement, he caves and reaches for the first present.

Picking up the smaller wrapped present on the left, from the shape alone, he knows that he’s been gifted a canister of the black tea he buys at the market on the other end of town. It feels exactly the same in his hand wrapped as it does when he holds it barren in his kitchen, and he can feel the faint impress of the metal engraving through the wrapping paper. He brings up the gift to his ear, gently shakes it, and his suspicions are confirmed when he hears the faint rustling of loose tea leaves, a sound more familiar to him than the creak of the wooden floorboard in front of his bedroom that he refuses to fix.

An appropriate gift. He’s nearly out of his current stock of the tea, and with the current winter wind, he’s been too sluggish to get himself all the way to the market across town.

His fingers trace along the edges of the wrapping paper for where it’s folded over top itself, but as he searches for the seam to start trying to pick at it with his fingernails, against the skin of his left wrist, he feels a small ribbon. Holding the box up above his head, he sees that it hangs from the bottom of the gift and seemingly comes from within the wrapping itself.

How odd.

“What’s this?”

“You have to open it! We can’t tell you!”

“Not the gift. This ribbon.”

“Oh! The lady who wrapped it for us told us that it’s so the person opening it doesn’t have to struggle with the paper. She said to pull on the ribbon to open it.”

“Where did you find someone to gift-wrap these for you?”

“Uh,” Gabi looks to Falco, who shakes his head for her not to tell. “She just saw us struggling to wrap it, and she helped us.”

Levi’s best guess is that saying who she is would give away some part of the gifts they’ve brought back for him.

Levi hums as he tugs on the white ribbon gently, holding the canister with his left hand and pulling with his right thumb and ring finger, and the paper comes undone quickly, the ribbon tearing through.

Huh. That was surprisingly easy.

It looks that the ribbon had been attached to the canister itself, and pulling on it brought apart the paper which kept the gift hidden.

He sets aside the wrapping paper and ribbon, both of which are in one piece and will save him the trouble of having to clean up the half-town pieces of tape he expected to collect in his hand, and stares down at the tea canister. He turns it to see that it is, in fact, the black tea he always gets, and there’s a slight tug at his lips at the sentiment that the children take enough note of his tastes to make sure they’d gotten the right blend.

“Thank you, kids.”

They’re hardly kids anymore, both of them fifteen years of age, but he can’t help but see them as the young children he’d met when he’d first reached this land.

They grow up too fast.

“Now the other one!”

Levi carefully sets down the canister, and with his both his hands, he reaches for the other gift they’ve brought him.

Instead of picking it up, he simply slides the box closer to himself. Just as when he ran his fingers over the wrapper canister to find where he could start unpeeling the tape, he feels a ribbon just barely peeking out from the backside of the box. He pulls at it, and as it comes away from the box and takes away torn tape with it, Levi internally thanks whoever it was that packaged this all up.

Gabi rushes to take away the trash in Levi’s hands and from the table, rushing off to put it in the bin underneath Levi’s kitchen sink. She comes running back, holding the flower in her hair in place as she hurriedly takes her seat again, and she motions towards the box again.

Even with his eyes downturned, Levi can feel the excitement radiating off the children, so he smiles to himself as he pulls the top compartment of the box halfway-open, revealing an ornately decorated cake. In curly piped frosting, reads Happy Birthday, and all around the border is a ring of cream that smells of lemon and faint notes of mint.

What odd flavors for winter.

He pulls up the top compartment all the way so he can take out the cake, but before he can take his hands away from the cardboard to start trying to get the cake out, he sees a small pink ticket attached to its underside.

He squints to try and read the words printed on it—Good for one free item! In the bottom right corner is a small logo, picturing a bow, as well as some other lettering that’s too small for him to read.

“So, what do you think?”

“What am I supposed to do with this?”

“With the cake…? You eat it,” Falco politely clarifies.

“No, I know what a cake is,” Levi says gently, trying to take out the ticket from the board. He struggles a bit, his nails too short to pull at the tape initially, but he manages to pull it away and holds it in front of himself, reading the words again—Good for one free item! The print he couldn’t read earlier lists the exact address of this bakery. Looking at the logo again, he recognizes it as belonging to the corner shop he crosses to get to the market where he buys his tea. “What’s this?”

“The lady working at the bakery said it was an extra treat for you! We wanted to get you a tea-flavored cake, but she said she ran out for the day by the time we got there, and gave us a ticket to make up for it!”

“Is she the same person who wrapped the tea for you too?”

They both nod.

Levi sighs.

Whoever this woman is must be either too kind for her own good or too stupid for the same purpose. In the first place, a local bakery definitely isn’t well-off enough to be giving away free inventory to people who aren’t regulars to begin with.

Levi puts the ticket into the pocket of his pants, and he tells himself that he’ll stop by to return this to the bakery later today. He has nothing better to do today, as he doesn’t have to water the plants with the expected night rain, so he might as well just make sure that whoever it is that’s foolish enough to give away free shit knows that he won’t be taking advantage of that.

He supposes that today is the day he finally ventures back to the hustle and bustle of the city. It was about time, anyway, so he’s glad he has a reason to now.

It’d be worth it to give thanks for how she’d wrapped his presents, too.

Gabi and Falco both get up from their chairs to go over to his side of the dining table and help him take out the cake from the box, taking more hands than Levi originally thought necessary, and Levi excuses himself to grab cutlery and plates.

As he opens the cupboard to fetch just that, he can hear the two children fussing about, trying to get the cake placed in the dead center of the table, arguing over where the first cut should be made, untying limbs after they help straighten each other’s shirt collars, shouting to tell Levi he needs to start thinking of an extraordinary birthday wish to make up for all the birthdays he hasn’t celebrated.

It’s heartwarming—that they can finally occupy themselves with things other than the perils of war. That they find not only the sea, the sky, and the earth beautiful, but themselves as well.

Levi wishes he could be the same.

The dinnerware and serving utensils he needs in his lap, Levi wheels back to the table, and with the help of the two who’d so graciously brought him this cake, the three cut themselves neat slices of cake. Even though they’d forgotten to bring candles with them for Levi to blow out, they push him to ask for that wish they’d asked him to come up with just minutes prior, and even though Levi doesn’t think the universe is that forgiving, he begrudgingly tells the children that he did.

It’s almost as begrudging as the way he lifts the half-spoonful of cake that he brings up to his lips.

Earnestly, Levi doesn’t have many sweets to begin with. He enjoys candy well enough, especially lollipops, but he himself doesn’t care to learn how to bake or ever make use of the honey that’s been collecting dust at the back of his spice cabinet. He prefers the milder flavors that he knows are safe, that he can’t fuck up.

Which is why it surprises him that he enjoys this cake so much, even with the taste of sentimentality that he knew would be carried along with the spoon.

The taste of lemon is surprisingly faint, only made prominent by the smell of the cake itself, and it doesn’t eat at his taste buds in the way that harsh citrus usually does. Hardly ever does Levi get the chance to taste vanilla, as it’s far too expensive for him to excuse as being a reasonable purchase, but its presence here is welcome as the sweet cream dissolves in his mouth. The mint, which he’d expected to taste like his toothpaste, leaves only a small twinkle dancing on the tip of his tongue.

Yet another reason to go to that bakery—to give his compliments to the baker, whomever they may be.

Though he wouldn’t dare dream of taking advantage of the ticket, maybe he’ll look around, see if there’s anything he’d like to treat himself to. Seldom ever does he have the will to do such, but whatever magic touch this baker has… Levi has to at least try something else of theirs.

With summer having long since passed in the year, it’s been a while since he’d felt so… refreshed, even if just by taking a single bite of this cake. So eager to take another bite, to feel the soft cushion of sponge cake against the roof of his mouth.

Gabi and Falco are both quick to continue digging into their pieces, eating quietly as to not disrupt the quiet that Levi typically prefers during mealtime, so they don’t take notice, but Levi sits with the spoon in his mouth for a long while, waiting for the flavors in his mouth to stop prompting joy in his heart.

They don’t, and Levi only has himself to force open his mouth and pick up another morsel of the dessert.

After everyone finishes their helping of cake and Levi listens to Gabi and Falco regale their past days spent together, both his stomach and his heart are full, and he sends them home with their own pieces of cake to bring back for their other loved ones, as Levi knows that he wouldn’t be able to finish it all on his own anyway. They’re reluctant to go, not wanting to leave Levi by himself on his birthday, but after he insists that they’ve done more than enough for him by spending the sunniest parts of the day with him (and that he’s too old to be taking up their youth), they’re happy as can be, and the two skip off to go bother whomever else their hearts desire.

With his house now empty apart from himself, he goes looking for his winter coat, preparing himself for the decently long trek over to the bakery to return the ticket. It doesn’t take long for him to find it and get it onto his frame, and after taking a pair of fingerless gloves hanging from the wall near the door, he’s ready to go. He checks that he still has that ticket in his pants pocket, and when he feels the rough texture of the fibers, he knows it’s there.

As Levi wheels himself down from the elevated foundation his house sits on top of, he looks upwards towards the sky, and when it’s as beautiful as he’s come to accept he’ll never be able to fathom, he wonders if his birthday wish could be granted. 

Was it a waste to wish for something as impossible as peace? To yearn for something he’s never known, even in his dreams? To ask for a life that’s more beautiful than what he can see with his own eyes?

It’s been so long since he’d had to even consider the mere notion of an act like that—perhaps dating back to when his mother would sneak rolls of bread for him and tell him to wish on the singular red-hot coal she’d stolen from the brothel’s kitchenette. Even when he did celebrate his birthday in his years with Furlan and Isabel, and later in his years with Hange and Erwin, he’d never been pressed to want more than what was there.

Maybe he’ll figure it all out someday.

Maybe he’ll suddenly come to know, and, at that point, he’ll only have to reflect to see the beauty that’s become of his life.

Maybe he won’t, and that’d be okay too. It’s not like he knows anything but what he’s lived through, thus far.

But, right now, that’s not what’s important.

What’s important is that he finds this bakery, and he returns this ticket to the woman who was so kind as to wrap his things with ribbon, even if she didn’t do it for him intentionally.

Maybe, then, he’ll have the headspace to know if dreams, just like his to see the clear sky, can come true.

｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☀︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ

By the time Levi reaches this bakery at the corner, the sun has fallen halfway to the horizon, and he can only barely see it above the tallest building in this part of the city. He’d have gotten here much faster if he’d asked someone for a ride by car, but he didn’t think it necessary with how unimportant this errand actually is.

But, because he has truly nothing else of importance he needs to attend to, this is what’s most important to him right now.

No matter, because he’s here already, and though he’d thought the complete opposite would be true, this place is… quite quiet.

Perhaps it’s the weather, or perhaps it’s the time of day, but there’s hardly anyone here, as Levi can only see a handful of people through the large, barely-fogged out glass windows. With how good just that single piece of cake was, Levi had thought it’d be packed.

On the contrary, there’s no line, no hurry, no rush.

When Levi’d been more young and naïve and stupid, he had dreams of opening a tea shop. Something just like this, with huge windows and enough sunlight to read the morning paper from a register that’s spilling over with receipts and drink orders. Even though he’s impartial to people themselves, he’d imagine that, if he had the chance to be anything but who he’s been at every stage of his life, he’d be talented enough with his craft that there’d always be a line out the door, an abundance of people to appreciate what he’d have to offer them.

Maybe that’s why his heart drops, seeing how empty this place looks.

The door stays propped open with a large potted plant, unusually healthy and green for such cold weather, so Levi doesn’t have to fuss around with finding a way to get inside with his wheelchair. He gets inside easily enough, only just barely struggling not to crash into the plant or get any of its leaves caught on the wheels. Now, without the faint fog to cover its interior, he sees all sorts of plants and decorative teaware lined up on a shelf perched against the side wall of the bakery, definitively marking the space as some sort of garden.

No one pays any mind to Levi as he looks around, them all occupied by their own objects of affection, and Levi finds himself going over to a large display case, near empty and only filled with a few stray pastries, of which they all look appetizing and worthy of the money he’d brought along with him in case he’d wanted to buy anything to bring home.

He decides that he’ll get everything that’s left, as he feels compelled to support a business such as this, so undeserving of its low-traffic patronage. It’s only a handful of things; he knows he has enough to afford them all.

At the back wall, he sees that there’s some sort of drinks menu, but that hardly is of any importance to Levi, so he ignores any of its writing and downturns his eyes, going back to imagining how to make use of all the sweets he’s about to bring home with him.

The ship is returning tomorrow. Maybe he can round up those brats he used to call his soldiers, and they can run their mouths about whatever political business they’ve found themselves entangled in (or, more likely, about whatever memories return to them upon visiting the island they’d once called home).

He gently lifts himself up from his wheelchair, trying to peer over to where the front display meets the back kitchen, when he catches sight of a flash of pale yellow, rushing between what seems to be opposite sides of a room he isn’t in. Whoever it is, they turn back and look from over the door frame, and Levi finds himself locking eyes with the stranger, her own eyes blinking in surprise in reaction to his steeled gaze.

She then rushes off to put something down, and she emerges from the back room, a bright smile on her face as she waves at him, meeting him from through the display case.

She’s wearing a pale yellow apron over a plain, long-sleeve white dress, her hair tied away from her face with a ribbon that’s the same shade of white as what’d been used to wrap the gifts the kids had brought him, only hers is thicker and seemingly made of a satin material. 

She looks to be about his age, if not only a few years younger, her smile lines and the faint crow’s feet at her eyes being the only signs of aging and a life well-lived. They add a lot of character to her face—her features show love, romance, in a way that’d ordinarily only be made visible through the soul.

Still, her youth is undeniable. Her mannerisms are endearing in the same manner that the sun is bright—unfathomable, unrelenting, without shame.

She’s… beautiful.

Definitively so, with the slight tilt of her head as she greets him, taking his breath away in tandem with his sanity.

“Hello, sir! What can I get for you today?”

Peeling his eyes away from her, he clears his throat, feeling an unusual pause for a second before regaining his composure. “Could I have everything in the display case?”

Her eyes widen, and she blinks. “Are you sure?”

He nods.

“Really?”

He nods again.

She smiles once more, the shine overwhelming even through the frosted glass which separates them, and she crouches down to gather a box, similar to the one that’d kept his cake earlier. She uses steady hands to grab the sweets with tongs, and she motions Levi over to the register once she’s gotten everything in the box.

She reads the total amount to him without needing to input anything on the register, letting on that she’s knowledgeable enough about the price of all the stock in the bakery, and she pulls out a spool of ribbon and a pair of scissors from underneath the counter. Levi hears the quiet snip of scissors as he gathers the money from his coat pocket, and he watches as she laces the ribbon through the openings of the box.

She puts away her ribbon in exchange for a small roll of tape, and when she sees that Levi has already set all the money on the counter between them, she nervously smiles. “Thank you! I’m sorry, just give me one more second.” She focuses her attention downwards again, placing the tape in various spots to keep the box sealed, and she holds it out for Levi to take when she’s finished.

He does, and he places it on his lap, careful to make sure that it’s level and won’t fall off.

She takes the money he set down, and she counts it to herself quietly before inputting something into the register, placing the money inside, and outstretching a silver coin in change to him. “Have a good rest of your day!”

He nods, taking the change, but just as he’s about to leave, he remembers that he has that ticket in his pocket, and before the woman can leave for the kitchen again, he takes it out and sets it on the counter. “I don’t need this.”

She hums in confusion as she looks down at it, then her eyes flicker up towards him. “I don’t recall ever seeing you before, where did you get this?”

“My kids said someone gave it to them as an apology for not having a specific flavor.”

She lights up. “Oh, those two! About this tall?” She motions, showing how tall they are relative to her own height. Levi nods. “They were here in the morning to buy a birthday cake. How’d you like it?”

“It was good,” he says gently. “And thank you for wrapping up their gifts for me.”

“Of course! They’re incredibly sweet, you and your wife must’ve raised them well.”

Levi splutters, and, in surprise, he nearly drops the box from his lap. “They’re not my kids in that manner, I just look out for them when I can.”

She giggles, shaking her head. “Well, no matter, if you have this ticket, you might as well use it, right?”

“It’s alright, I don’t need it.”

“I’m insisting, then.”

“Isn’t your boss going to be upset with you for giving away stock?”

She hums, shaking her head. “I own the place, so I wouldn’t say so.”

Levi frowns. “Can you even afford to give things away for free?”

She laughs, this time without qualm, and she looks off and out the window, scratching at her cheek with her pointer finger. “I guess it does look pretty empty today, huh? I’d sold out of most of today’s inventory in the morning, so if you’re worried about my business, don’t be.”

That’s certainly a relief.

“Besides, I rarely ever hand these out, so it’s alright. And today’s a special occasion!”

“What’re you talking about?”

“It’s your birthday, isn’t it?”

“Right,” Levi muses, kissing his teeth.

“Just think of it as another gift, then.”

“I still don’t feel right accepting anything for free. Besides,” Levi eyes flicker back to the now-empty display. “There’s nothing else to take.”

The woman turns around, leaning back against the counter to be further eye-level with Levi as she points to the written menu up-top in front of them. “You could have some tea! I’d like to think I’m pretty good at brewing a cup.”

As eager as you sound, that offer doesn’t sound enticing to him at all. He has no doubt that it probably tastes fine, but he has no intention of trying any new tea right now. Possibly ever. “Thank you, but I’ll pass.”

She picks up the ticket and looks, again, between it and Levi. “Well, I can’t force you, but now that I know it’s your birthday, I can’t just let you go home without something special for yourself.”

“Who said all these aren’t?”

She rolls her eyes. “I know they aren’t.”

Levi deadpans. “And you know this, how?”

She hums, leaning forward and putting her elbows on the counter. “You seem like the type to save the best bite for last, but that just means you appreciate your food. You’ll probably invite some friends over and only eat what’s left after everyone picks what they want, right?”

When Levi doesn’t reply, instead only briefly looking down into his lap, she laughs again, standing straight up again.

“Got you, didn’t I?” She teases, winking playfully. “Take a seat at one of the tables, I’ll bring you something from the back.”

“Wait-”

Before he can tell her that he had only planned to come and go, she skips off to the back, and Levi can only watch as the ribbon in her hair trails behind her and leaves behind a white blur.

Well, he guesses he’s stuck here now. He’d feel even worse if he just left, and that poor woman came out and couldn’t find him.

He supposes he was right to think she was both exceptionally foolish, and, more-so, painfully kind.

Levi sighs, and he looks over his shoulder to assess the tables. There’s one at the corner of the room, away from the few patrons here, and he makes his way there. He passes by the shelf of greens and ceramics to get there, and he gets struck by a strong smell of… freshness.

Just like he was when he’d had his cake earlier.

He puts his box on the table and moves himself from his wheelchair to the plush of the seat provided, and he sighs at the change of cushion on his thighs. He takes off his gloves and leans his head on a propped-up left hand, breathing warm and slow to watch the cold air cloud with a slight gale. He faces the window as he waits, watching as people covered up for the winter walk past the bakery, and he pulls his coat tighter as he feels the cold wind as it blows in through the open door.

The baker comes back to the table before he can think too harshly about anything in particular, and with her, she carries a tray with a small packaged sweet and a steaming cup of tea. She places it in front of him, careful not to spill anything, and she smiles down at him.

“Happy birthday! It’s on the house!”

“Thank you,” he replies, awkwardly nodding, and he waits for her to be safely faraway enough from him before he stares down at the tray, watching as the warmth of the tea bleeds up into the air.

Through the clear top of the package, Levi sees a slice of cake, with speckled vanilla cream and berries strewn about. On the side of the package, tied with ribbon, is a small plastic fork. He lifts the slice up, and as he saw earlier with the tea she’d wrapped, there’s a small ribbon hanging from the bottom too.

Next to the teacup, there’s a smaller dish of sugar cubes, as well as two small pitchers of cream and honey. Even more captivating, there’s a small sprig of what looks to be mint. The point where the small stem has been split off looks wet, as if it’s just been plucked from its shrub.

She must’ve broken it off on her way to his table.

He has no intention of drinking the tea, nor doing anything with the additions she’s brought him, so he carefully lifts up the cake slice and pushes away the tray.

Better to leave it noticeably untouched. Maybe she can drink it herself when she returns to clear his table after he leaves.

He peels away the ribbon at the side to get his fork, then at the one on the bottom, and the box unfolds into a sort of plate where the cat sits neatly at the center. A blueberry nearly rolls away and off the surface, but he manages to stop it with the edge of his fork.

He sets the berry back on top of the slice, atop the dollop of cream at the cake’s edge, and he cuts away a piece to pick up with his fork.

Once more, his mouth is greeted with a symphony of flavors, none too familiar to him.

He can’t be bothered to even try to make sense of the way this new sensation feels. It’s divine in a way he doesn’t know how to describe, and his rational mind gives way for his mouth to blindly enjoy the sugar and spice that’s in front of him. Around him, people slowly leave, himself being the last person lost in this cold paradise as he savors the baked good brought to him, but at least he has the shared, lonesome company of the baker running this shop.

She had come out from the kitchen a few times to clean tables and bring dishes to the back, but for the most part, she’d left him alone entirely. He didn’t think anything ill of that—he’d just assumed she was busy taking care of things for the following day’s opening, or whatever else it is that bakers have to handle at the tail end of their day.

Once Levi finishes his cake and gathers his things on his lap, she emerges from the kitchen once more, sending him a smile before going over to flip the bakery’s open sign and move the plant keeping the door open. 

He wheels himself over to the trashcan near the door, tossing in the remnants of the cardboard he’d just eaten off of, and he meets her gaze halfway as he goes to leave.

“Thank you, again. For the cake.”

“Don’t mention it,” she muses, going over to hold the door open for him to leave.  “I need to close up now, but come again sometime, yeah? I’m open from Tuesday to Friday!”

He nods halfheartedly, and she smiles as she tilts her head towards the direction of the street. He leaves, needing to be careful as to not bump into her hair ribbon as he passes through the door, and he’s off to find home again. The sun, now, is nearer to the horizon, but he knows he’ll have enough time to make it back to the house before dark.

Before he can get too far, though, he hears the bell of the bakery doors reopening abruptly.

“Wait! I didn’t catch your name!” The baker calls after him.

From across the street, he looks over his shoulder and at her, her hair blowing alongside the zephyr. Her hair’s white ribbon flies higher, as its light weight makes it catch wind more steadily, and her cheeks turn pink with the nipping cold.

“Capta-,” he hesitates, biting the inside of his cheek.

Even after all these years, he’s never fully been able to forget his formal introduction.

Maybe he was right to think it wasted to wish for a life simpler than what he’s been given.

“It’s Levi,” he says a bit louder, hoping the wind will carry his name to her.

“Levi?”

He nods.

She then smiles, and she waves at him sweetly, her other hand keeps her hair from blocking her vision. “Happy birthday again, Levi!”

He brings up his hand to wave back to her in polite gratitude, and her grin becomes ever-brighter at the returned gesture. 

As he turns away from her and she retreats back to the bakery, he realizes that even with the sun now hiding between the concrete of buildings seemingly taller than the skies themselves, she was so like the sun. So blindingly-so, that he’d forgotten to ask her name in return.

Goddamn it.

｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☀︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ

It’s not too long before Levi returns to the quaint little bakery at the corner near the market.

Once the new year has begun and he’s needed to go stock up on more supplies for his garden, he’s back in that part of town, and after he’s exhausted himself by looking for new gardening gloves and new nails to repair a broken section of the trellis, he’s found himself back here again, looking through the display glass at various cakes and sweets, much more fully-stocked than the last time he was here, and through gentle breeze at the baker who’s currently giving a high-five to the kid in front of him in line.

As Levi waits his turn, he looks through the array of desserts carefully before he decides on a slice of black forest cherry cake. He hasn’t got any clue what that’s meant to taste like, but he doesn’t think he could be let down by anything from this place. Because he has plans at the house later with Onyankopon, Gabi, and Falco to start working on getting the dirt ready for the spring planting, he’ll bring them all back something too.

When it’s his time to get to the baker, her eyes light up at the sight of the man, now dressed slightly warmer with the now-present hot sunrise. She herself is still in that same yellow apron, but she’s now dressed in a long skirt and a frilly blouse.

“Welcome back, Levi!”

“Good morning,” he greets softly.

Still in her hair is her signature white ribbon, and she rests her head on her arms atop the display case as she follows along where Levi’s eyes go. “What would you like today?”

“Could I get a slice of black forest cherry?”

She points to it from above. “This one?”

Levi nods.

The baker hums to herself as she slides open the backside of the display, the pair of tongs in her hands hovering over the assortment of slices before remaining still above the flavor he’s asked for. She squints as she looks at all of them before choosing one awkwardly in the middle of all the others, and she takes an unfolded package box from underneath the counter to put it into.

“Anything else for you? Did you want to buy out the entire display again?” She teases, a playful smile decorating her features.

Levi feels a faint flutter in his heart with her exuberance, but he ignores it and clears his throat, looking through the glass again. “Not today.”

She laughs. “I’ll look forward to when you will, then.”

“Do you have any suggestions? I’m having people over at my house later today.”

She hums, clicking the claws of her tongs together a few times as she crouches down and looks at everything. She accidentally makes eye contact with Levi through the glass here, and she smiles sweetly at him before going back to looking. Her eyes are downcast, blocked by her long eyelashes, yet they still trace sunlight as they move across the sweets on display.

“How about an orange sugar cake?” She suggests, eyes flitting up to meet his. “I think they’re in season right now, they were pretty cheap at the market when I went yesterday.”

They are. Jean had brought over a potted orange treeling just the other day.

“Sounds good,” he says.

She gently tugs on the cakeboard of a pale orange cake, dusted with powdered sugar and decorated with thyme, before pulling it completely off the display and over to the counter, getting a second box that’s much bigger and without cellophane top.

She motions him over to the register, and she goes through the same remembered motions that Levi remembers her making from the last time he’d watched her wrap up his things.

As she pulls out her scissors and ribbon, she tells him the total of the numbers he’d already read on the cakes’ accompanying price tags, and Levi reaches into his coat pocket for the wallet that Onyankopon had gifted him for his birthday (him and the rest of the 104th ended up hosting a birthday party for him when they’d all returned from the Island, those fucking bastards).

“So, what brings you here today?” She asks.

Levi opens up his wallet, careful not to spill anything from his lap as he tries to gather up all the bills he needs. “Passing through to run errands. I figured I’d stop by.”

“Do you live far from here?”

“A fair bit away, but I’ve managed.”

“Well,” the sound of a snip of her scissors, “I’m glad to see you back! I was worried I’d scared you off a bit,” she jokes.

He raises a brow. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

At his usage of profanity, she giggles, amused. “I don’t know, I came off pretty strong when you were here. Sorry about that.”

That much might be true, but it’s not something that’d scare him anyway.

“No need to be sorry. You didn’t scare me.”

“That’s a relief,” she muses. reaching for a roll of tape. “Are you eating your slice here, or will you be taking that home?”

Looking over at the window, he sees too many people moving about. He’ll stay here to avoid the foot-traffic. “I’ll have it here.”

She hums in acknowledgement, and after a few snips, she continues. “No tea again?”

Levi lies through his teeth. “Not much of a tea drinker.”

She pauses to look at him briefly, but then goes back to lacing the ribbon through the folds of the box. “Right.”

. . .

“Do you garden?”

Levi blinks. “What?”

“Your gloves,” she says, pointing with her scissors at the new pair sitting on his lap. “I have the same ones.”

“Oh. Yes, I do.” His hands, already gloved to protect his palms from the grime of the street he wheels through, go to touch the newly bought gloves. He hadn’t ever gotten these specific ones before, but he hopes they’ll be alright.

“They’re a good brand, I like them a lot.”

“Never used these before, I hope they’re good,” Levi says, eyes following her swift hands as they cut tape. “None of them ever feel right.”

“Why do you say that?”

Well, it's kind of hard for gloves to feel comfortable when he’s missing two of his fingers.

The extra unused fabric just awkwardly hangs downwards as he works in the fields of his backyard, and even though he’s found that tucking them inside-out makes them less of a hassle, they still feel disgusting against the skin of the back of his right hand, so he usually prefers the inconvenience. He goes through his gloves quickly, though, as the overhanging pieces tend to get caught and tear on tools and trellis.

“They just don’t.”

Levi puts the money on the table, and he puts away his wallet as the baker counts it out and puts it into the register.  She hands him back his change, but before Levi can get to trying to figure out how to fit all this and his other items from the market on his lap, she pulls back the boxes closer to herself and picks them up.

When he looks up at her quizzically, she just smiles softly and tilts her head towards the tables. “Gonna show me where you want to sit, or do you want me to choose for you?”

He feels his ears flush red as he bites the inside of his cheek to keep from saying anything stupid, and he looks away from her.

He clicks his tongue to feign indifference, and he brings himself over to that same, unoccupied table at the corner of the room. The baker follows closely behind him, and she places the boxes on the table for him. She excuses herself quickly to go fetch him a fork, as she hadn’t taped one onto the side of his smaller slice box.

Levi pulls the packaged cake slice closer to himself, and he pulls gently on the ribbon underneath to undo the tape and unravel the box, just as he did when he was here on his birthday.

The baker returns, with a fork in hand, and she sets it down carefully on a napkin she’d taken out from her apron pocket. “Enjoy, Levi! Let me know when you’re leaving, so I can help get your cake ready for transport.”

“What?” He blinks.

“You can’t just carry a cake in your lap all the way home, can you?”

He hadn’t thought it’d be much of an inconvenience, but she’s probably right. Getting to and from this part of town is difficult enough as a person with mobility issues, and trying to balance an entire cake on his lap without his hands sounds even more hellish. 

“Alright, I’ll let you know, then.”

“Perfect! I’ll see you in a bit!” Right after she turns on her heel, though, she pauses and looks over her shoulder at him, and she turns around. “Actually…”

“What?”

She stretches out her hand to him, her palm-up. “Could I have your gardening gloves for a bit?”

He’s… confused.

“What do you mean, ‘can you have my gardening gloves?’ You said you had your own pair.”

She only smiles, the ribbon in her hair bouncing slightly as her spirit tries to convince him to believe her. “I promise, I’ll give them back to you.”

Well, he has nothing to lose here anyway. If she doesn’t give him back his gloves, he can just go over to the market and buy another pair, or just cut his losses entirely and accept that gardening gloves aren’t worth jack shit.

And, for whatever reason, he feels like he can trust her.

Whether or not he wants to think further about that, entirely up in the air, but for the time being, he picks up the gloves from his lap and hands them to the unnamed baker, who then excuses herself with another smile and leaves for the back part of the bakery.

What a strange woman.

He picks up the fork she’d brought back for him and starts digging into the cake, already knowing to prepare himself for the harmonious musings of flavors he’s about to take in, and he beams to himself when he’s finally got the cake in his mouth.

He’d expected as much, but he’s still going to be surprised anyway.

When he’s finished with the piece of cake, the small lace doily completely free of any residual crumbs, he cranes his head to look towards the kitchen where the baker had disappeared, hoping that she’ll meet his gaze halfway and just come out to help him as promised (and bring back his gloves, but honestly, he has no fucking clue what she’s doing with them, so maybe she doesn’t need to do that).

Lo and behold, as she’s crossing through the space visible from the front of the house, she looks out towards him, and when her eyes lock with his, she pauses, rushes back from the direction she came from, and skips over to Levi, gloves in her hand as well as a decently large cloth bag.

“You about ready to leave now?”

Levi nods.

The baker smiles as she holds out the gloves out to Levi, prompting him to take them back. “Try these on, okay? I’ll get your cake hooked up onto your chair, and you can be on your way.”

She picks up the larger box of orange sugar cake and places it carefully into the cloth bag she’s brought from the kitchen, and she disappears behind Levi to start attaching things to the back of his wheelchair. Levi cranes his neck to try and watch as she works behind him, but because he really can’t see anything even when his entire upper body stretches and turns, he resolves to just do as he’s told and try on his gloves.

He sighs as he lays them both out on the table to see which goes on which hand, but as his eyes regain focus under the morning sun, he’s surprised to see that the right side’s pointer and middle fingers are… gone?

He swears he had gotten gloves that were annoyingly both five-fingered.

He remembers having grimaced as he went to pay for them, knowing that he’d have to go back and try another brand at some point in the future when these would inevitably annoy the shit out of him. Onyankopon would try to cheer him up, the kids would make another joke about how he’s had to spend more money on gloves than on actual gardening supplies, and the cycle would repeat itself until Levi’s too old and brittle to keep tending to the fields.

He holds the glove up to his face, looking closer at the seam where the fabric should be, but he only finds a neatly stitched line which connects the panels of the palm and back of a hand.

It’s stitched in the same pale yellow thread as her apron.

“Did you…”

She laughs from behind him, and he hears a faint rustling of ribbon along with the sound. “Did I what?”

“Nevermind,” he utters softly, and using his left hand, he pulls off his right fingerless glove, picks up the gardening glove again, and tugs it onto his hand.

He closes his fist.

Opens it.

And closes it again.

The gentle compress of the thick fabric feels nice against his knuckles, as opposed to the loose feeling of air he was used to feeling there, of which would both irritate and overwhelm his senses.

“Okay, I’m done!”

Looking back again, he sees that the baker has now stood up, and there’s now a ribbon tied between both handles of his wheelchair, ornately kept together with knots he doesn’t know how to undo. The ribbons are interlaced with the handles of the cloth bag, and it seems to provide extra support for the cake to keep it from rocking about as Levi travels.

She points to the end of a piece of ribbon at the left handle. “Pull on that piece to untie everything, just be careful taking it off your chair because the bag isn’t the strongest without the ribbon to support it.”

Levi’s heart flutters at the gesture, but there’s a quiet sinking which keeps him from being as appreciative as he wants to be.

“Did you get that?” She asks, waving a hand in front of his face.

He blinks, and he dumbly nods. “Yeah, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” she says.

Before he can stop the words from spilling over, they come out. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

The baker looks at him with confused eyes. “What, do you think you aren’t worth it?”

Yes.

“No.”

She smiles warmly and tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s really not any trouble, Levi. I’m more than happy to help out.”

The bell from the door of the bakery rings, alerting her of another customer coming into the building, and she sheepishly smooths out the front of her apron before excusing herself to attend to them.

Again, before he can stop himself, his right hand, still gloved in the dense fabric of the gardening material, reaches out to gently hold onto her wrist.

She looks down at him, seemingly and entirely unbothered by his touch, and she doesn’t move away from his grasp. “Do you need anything?”

Levi’s heart gets caught in his throat, but he manages to speak once more. “Could I ask for your name?”

The question feels fiercely intimate, just as it did when she’d asked for his name, but, here, it feels like such a far leap.

And, yet, she still smiles at him, and she moves her hand so that she’s able to squeeze his palm gently.

When she speaks her name— your name—to him, he catches a peek of sunshine from the corner of his eye, caught on the reflection of the bell.

And he wonders if this is how the sea feels when it meets the sky.

｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☀︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ

“You’re a lot faster than you usually are, Levi,” Onyankopon comments, passing by him on his way back to the house. “Something motivating you today?”

Levi shakes his head. “Not really, no.”

The taller man smiles good-naturedly and hoists up the shovel held over his shoulder. “Well, whatever it is, you’ve been working long enough, so you should come inside with us to have some of that cake you brought back with you. It’s gonna get dark soon.”

Levi sighs, taking the small towel draped over his shoulder to wipe at the sweat that’s built on his forehead. “Yeah, sure.”

Onyankopon picks up Levi’s cane from the ground and hands it to him, the latter thanking him for the help. As Levi reaches for it, Onyankopon takes notice of the gloves Levi’s wearing.

“New gloves?”

At the mention of them, Levi looks down, and he finds himself having to push away the flicker of sunbeam that replays in his mind.

Levi nods, and he slings his towel back onto his shoulder.

“Something like that.”

The next time he sees you, he really ought to thank you again.

It seems this year will have an even better harvest.

｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☀︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ

The next time he comes to the bakery is in another month’s time, just as winter begins to fade into the very early beginnings of spring.

Mikasa’s birthday is tomorrow, and it’s about that time of year that she routinely asks Levi to join her at the beach to mull over life’s happenings. Even worse, Eren’s birthday is just over the horizon, and that’s a tough time for everyone, but for her especially.

Because he knows that it’s hard for Mikasa to even bring herself to eat during these times, her mouth only opening to speak from the heart and weep for love’s past, Levi figures that bringing something sweet for her to pick at as she watches the sun fall is enough gesture to tell her that he wants her to take care of yourself, so that’s why he’s made the trip over here.

It’s also Falco’s birthday tomorrow, and Levi feels so inclined to get the brat a cake to celebrate another year of living. He’s been asking for something new to try from the bakery, anyway, so Levi might as well indulge the kid and let him and Gabi both bounce off the walls with energy.

While he’s here, he may as well extend his gratitude to you, too.

He doesn’t think he’ll need to buy any new pairs of gardening gloves soon.

When he comes through the opened door, there’s a long line, and Levi sighs.

With all these people, he’s bound to only have limited conversation with you, and even though he still doesn’t think himself deserving of the compassion which is extended alongside your time, he’d looked forward to it during the travel over.

He gets in the line, and as it moves fairly slowly, he watches as the display case becomes increasingly emptied. It feels like forever before he’s finally at the front, but once he’s there, he finds it all worth it to see the way your face shines when you see him, warmth radiating from you in spite of the gentle early spring wind.

“Hey, I haven’t seen you in a while!”

He lets the very corners of his mouth upturn slightly, your aura too bright to even be dampened by Levi’s everpresent somber.

“Good afternoon to you, too.”

“Sorry about the wait, what can I get for you today?”

For Mikasa, “Do you have any strawberry cakes left?”

You nod, already starting to reach for one. “How’s this one?”

“That’ll do just fine,” Levi says. And for Falco, “Could I also get a cheesecake, if you have any?”

“You got it!”

“...And could you write Happy Birthday on both of them?”

You hum in confirmation, and while you get to doing that, already knowing to meet you at the counter to pay, Levi pushes himself forward and begins to take out his bills, eyes occasionally flitting upwards to watch as you tape together the box and lace ribbon throughout. Just as you’re finished packaging up everything, you take his money, bill out the change, and Levi’s now awkwardly looking between the boxes and his own lap.

“Hey, Levi,” you call to him, putting away your packing tools underneath the counter. “If you wait over by your usual table, I can get these on your chair in a few minutes. Let me just take care of this line first.”

His eyes widen. “It’s fine, you don’t have to-”

“Are you in a hurry out?” You ask.

No.

“Yes.”

Your face drops slightly, but you still keep the light expression on your features. “Oh, well, alright. Let me go grab a crate, then, that might be easier to manage than just holding onto these.”

You disappear into the back, and you return just as quickly as you’d left, a decently large crate in your hands. You put that on the table while you lower the cakes into it, and after slotting some ribbon through the panels of the wooden crate to keep the cakes from moving too much in transport and taping a few more things together, Levi’s on his way out the door with two birthday cakes secured on his lap, and you’re back to tending to customers with a bright smile, moving your hands as you speak. 

Maybe he’s better off not thanking you again. You don’t have the time to be talking to someone like him, especially right now while you tend to other patrons, and even at his grown age, Levi feels too awkward to try and find a way to cooly express gratitude for an action taking place an entire month ago.

As he watches for the leaves on the plant holding the bakery door open, a little pink slip catches his eye from the inner wall facing him of the crate, a short stream of ribbon underneath the tape that holds it in place. He raises a brow, and he wheels himself to a stop just outside the large windows of the building to look at it more closely.

Good for one free item!

Levi looks at you from through the glass, catching your gaze already on him and waiting for his reaction, and he points at the ticket taped to his crate. You sweetly wave at him, but when Levi starts to turn his wheelchair around to try and return it, you frantically wave your hands out in front of you to tell him to just keep it.

And, well.

Considering the fact that he does eventually want to return, this is a good enough excuse to.

He wonders if that’s also what you want, and he can’t help but feel like, maybe, it is; because after he turns to go back on his way home, he can practically feel the warmth of your smile from the sun itself, even when there is an incessant, unrelenting voice at the back of his mind telling him that he’s not allowed to be happy like this.

｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☀︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ

Not even a week later, in the middle of February, Levi is back in the bakery.

The sun is starting to still in the sky for a bit longer than it has been for the past several months, and that means that there’s soon to be many more insects crawling around, of which try to eat at the leaves of the plants Levi tends to in the fields. He’d came to the market with the excuse that he needs to buy insecticide spray that the kids always beg to use (and, no, they aren’t allowed to use it anymore because Levi knows they’ll get so carried away with watching the dispensed mist that they won’t properly use it, and lord knows the tomato plants have suffered enough).

With the pink ticket in the silk of his pants pocket, he comes in through the propped-open door, and he greets you with a wave when he catches your eye from behind the counter.

Thankfully, there’s not too much of a line right now, so maybe you’ll indulge him and keep him company for a bit.

“Good morning,” you greet, meeting him at the display, a bright smile on your face. “What brings you here today? Another birthday?”

“Not today, just stopping by to use that ticket you gave me.” He tears his eyes away from you to look at the assortment of slices available. “Are you busy right now?”

“Not really,” you muse. “Why, do you want company while you eat?”

Levi freezes.

. . .

Is it that obvious?

You laugh, resting your head on the glass top of the display case. “Relax, I’m just messing with you.”

Right.

“I’ll have a slice of the raspberry cake.”

“Sure thing!”

You hum to yourself as you pick out the prettiest piece for him, and Levi meets you at the register with the pink ticket. You take it from him, making a bit of a scene by checking its “validity” before laughing and putting it into the pocket of your apron, and you lean forward with your elbows on the counter.

“No tea for you today?” You ask.

“No tea. Sorry.”

“Would you mind, then, if I had some while I sat with you?”

His eyes widen.

“You’re actually…?”

You playfully roll your eyes as you turn to go back to the kitchen, presumably to fetch yourself a cup of tea. “You’re pretty easy to read, you know that?”

No, he didn’t know that.

“Sure.”

“I’ll meet you at your table, don’t wait up for me!”

Levi lets out a nervous breath as he picks up the packaged cake slice, and he wheels himself over to that corner table by the window. Once he’s there and has taken a seat in the plush chair, he undoes the ribbon wrapping on the box, and he peels away the fork from the side to rest it on the table as he waits for you to return.

When you come back, you bring back a tray to his table with two teacups in it, as well as a mint sprig between your fingers. You gently pull out the chair for yourself, and you follow Levi’s gaze out to the window as you take sips from your tea.

He looks down at the other teacup there, accompanied by that same small dish with sugar cubes and two small pitchers of cream and money.

“I’m not drinking that.”

You blow away the steam that wafts from your cup, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “I know, but just in case.”

Levi’s eyes turn to look at you, waiting for you to start talking as he expects you to, but when his gaze meets yours, you only smile at him before going back to looking out the window, a meaningful, yearning look on your face as you watch city life go about itself.

In the end, he does the same, sitting and soaking in sunlight through the glass. Leaves fall from upper canopies right outside, and Levi watches as they hit the ground softly. Some of them fall onto people’s hair and hats, in which case Levi will hear you giggling quietly to yourself at the charming ignorance of a new accessory, and he feels a quiet flame start in his heart when he sees the way the sunbeam brings glow to your bright eyes.

But that’s not really that important.

You do have to get up at times to quickly tend to customers and get tea brewing for those who order it, but it’s hardly even noticeable to Levi when you do leave because of the trance he’s in as he watches the sunglow.

When Levi finishes his cake and you’re finished with your tea, you get up from the table and smooth out of the front of your apron. “It was nice sitting with you, thank you for letting me.”

He looks up at you and nods. “Likewise.”

“I’ll leave you be, but even though I can’t always give you free inventory, I hope you’ll come back,” you tease, a knowing smile on your face.

Against all better judgment telling him that he’s not meant to be living his life like this, “I will.”

The answer seems to surprise you slightly, as you still for a second, but you just laugh and shake your head, leaning your hand on the table as the other goes to take away his trash and the undrunken tea. “I’ll hold you to it, then. See you around, Levi.”

“Bye,” he says softly.

You wave at him as you begin to leave, but there’s a nagging at Levi’s mind to do what he’d wanted to the last time he was here.

Well, no time better than the present.

“And thank you for altering my gloves!” He shouts after you.

At the sound of his voice, you twirl around to meet his eyes halfway, and his heart just about stops as he watches the ribbon in your hair reflect soft lampglow as it follows the spin of your head.

And it actually does when you beam at him, a dusty pink on your cheeks as your smile reaches your eyes. “You’re welcome!”

｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☀︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ

By the time April comes around, it’s practically routine for Levi to come to the bakery every week. 

(He chooses to come on Wednesdays because that’s when it’s the least busy in the week, and he knows you'll be able to sit with him.)

The weather’s been perfect for him to be awake for the entirety of the day, and now that the breeze and temperature have settled enough to afford him a stable harvest without needing much effort on his part, he’s free to do nothing with his time.

Though, he isn’t completely sure if it amounts to “nothing” if he spends his nights either silently sharing grief with Mikasa (and, nowadays, Arlert too) on the sand or turning about in the lounge chair in the corner of his room, trying to find way to bring himself to clear his thoughts to even lay in his bed.

But, he can’t say for sure whether or not it’s worth anything otherwise, so it’s nothing.

Nothing much has changed, anyway, so Levi’s fine with the monotony that follows him around. His weekly visits become intertwined with the routine he’s engaged with in this life, which, then, leads him to spending part of his free time in this little bakery, just barely an hour’s walk away (not that he’s tried to actually walk that distance yet, but the pain in his legs has gradually subsided over the past months, so he’s satisfied enough knowing that he probably could if he wanted to), yet seemingly in a world so different from his.

He sits, watching as the world passes by him in seeming slow motion as he relishes in the serenity of this room. The smell of herbs, freshly picked from the shelf near him, travels alongside sugar and spice, and he’s left to forget that he’s not entirely his own.

In similar manner, it’s practically routine for you to have a cup of tea with Levi with he eats whatever it is that he buys from the display case (or, sometimes you’ll bring out something from the back for him to try—you insist it’s on the house, but he always manages to shove the exact legal tender into your hands anyway).

You also always bring out two cups of tea—one for yourself, one that’s meant for him—but he never drinks from it. It changes every week. Never is the tea the same color as in the previous week, almost as if you’re trying to gauge what it is that he enjoys.

It’s too kind.

He hates it.

And what makes it worse is that you don’t even seem to mind, even though Levi does tell you that he isn’t going to have any, every single time. You wave him off, only to resume sharing the sunlight with him, waiting for your own tea to cool enough to sip.

And he hates that he’s touched by that.

On this particular day, he’s having a slice of apricot cake, you’re having a cup of citrus tea with mint leaves, and there’s that gentle silence that hangs overhead every time this happens.

And whether or not it’s because it’s become so painfully soothing to just sit in silence with you, he doesn’t care to know, but today, by the time he’s finished savoring his piece, there’s a gentle pouring of rain outside.

He’d came much later than usual, as he’d met up with the 104th in the late afternoon to have lunch for Kirstein’s birthday (Kirstein, who’d begged for Levi to stay fully into the evening to join the lot for a night out drinking, but everyone else in their right mind at that luncheon (meaning, everyone but Kirstein and Springer) scolded him for asking that a poor old man like Levi stay out late), so, by now, he knows that even if he were to start heading home right now (in the pouring rain, mind you), it’d be nearing nightfall until he reached his destination.

And, of course, it’s nearing closing time for the bakery, so he’s bound to get kicked out at some point soon.

You excuse yourself after you finish your tea, just as you always do, with a smile and a joke about him coming back the following week, and Levi’s left to awkwardly wait for his mind to come up with a solution to this… relatively minor dilemma, but one nonetheless. The rain only seems to get heavier with each passing second, and his decision to not just brave out the light downpour seems to be hurting him now. Levi’s the only person left in here, everyone else having already left to escape when the rain was light enough to bear without an umbrella.

He supposes that he could find a nearby hostel to stay at for the night. He’s brought his wallet with him, so he’d have enough to get a room for the night, maybe for a hotel if he’s so inconvenienced.

He’s just going to (try to) sleep in the room’s chair, anyway. Doesn’t really matter to him where he spends the night.

When the sun finally falls low enough in the sky to only be seen looking sideways, you come out from the back part of the bakery, go to flip the open sign, and move the potted plant keeping the door open. You wipe your hands, wet with the rain that’d dripped onto the rim of the plant pot, on the front of your apron, and look over at Levi, who feels like a deer caught in headlights.

“...I swear, I’ll be on my way out soon.”

You scrunch your eyebrows. “What’re you talking about? You can’t get home in this rain.”

“It’s not so hard to get a room for the night around here.”

“Sure, but that’s really stupid when you could just stay here.”

He scoffs halfheartedly. “Right, like I could do that.”

When you don’t bite back with another joke, he recoils into himself.

“Right?”

“You’re more than welcome to.”

“Actually?"

You nod, going over to behind the display case to start cleaning. “You’ve been coming here for the last four months, I don’t mind helping out a friend.”

A friend.

You consider him a friend?

His heart feels caught in the downpour, but in the way that it’s swept away without disregard for its intentions.

It doesn’t feel… right.

Is it even fair for him to let himself get entangled like this? To let someone like you , befriend someone like him?

What could he possibly give you?

And, yet, even with the flushing away of his heart, he wishes to find it again, if only to feel the gentle spark he’d felt in it.

“Don’t you need to get home yourself?”

“I live in the apartment upstairs. Not to mention, the nearest place to stay the night is a couple blocks away, I wouldn’t want you to get lost looking for it.”

Oh.

“Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t.”

“...But are you sure?”

You laugh from behind the display, and after having cleared everything from the shelves, you peer at him through the glass. “Yes, Levi, I’m sure.”

Levi balls up his fists in his lap, unsure of what to do.

In the first place, Levi doesn’t enjoy the rain, so walking through it for that long of a distance, especially under this heavy downpour, is entirely out of the question.

Prior to being named Captain, he liked it well enough, and its drip and drop was soothing enough to lull him to a half-sleep even if he was unable to clear his head. He’d experienced his first downpour with both Isabel and Furlan, out in the streets of Mitras scarcely after being coerced into the Survey Corps, so rain was precious to him in the sense that it’d represented what forces had pulled him from his doomed life in the Underground.

But after so many expeditions gone wrong in the rainstorms of Paradis, he’s avoided actually being in it for too long to avoid stirring up painful memories of those times. The splash of rain, the thundering of clouds overhead—they’re the rare pieces of that life that haunt him in this one, even with their objective and sentimental beauty.

But he’d rather that than have to be fussed over by a woman he’s come to enjoy the company of. He couldn’t stand giving the rain yet another moment to ruin.

““I really don’t mean to be an inconvenience, just point me in the direction of the nearest hostel.”

You sigh, shaking your head. “Please, don’t worry about being an inconvenience.”

He frowns. “Really, I mean it.”

“I do too.” You get up from your position bent over to clean the display case, stretching your arms upwards.

“Do you seriously trust me not to completely ransack your home?”

“Hm? Where would I get that impression of you? You seem pretty normal to me.”

. . .

That’s right. You didn’t know him in that life.

You know him in this one.

The one he doesn’t feel is his to begin with.

“Nevermind.”

You yawn, and you crouch back down, cleaning cloth in your hand to wipe away condensation on the glass. “Tell you what, I’ll let you help clean the kitchen, and that’ll be worth my ‘trouble’ spent letting you stay the night here. Sound good?”

No.

Yes.

He doesn’t know.

“I’m not an indentured servant, you can’t barter like this.”

You laugh again, the ribbon in your hair bouncing as your body splutters. “Right, I shouldn’t.” Another wipe at the glass. “But, really, Levi. I’d rather you here than out in the rain.”

“You do realize that this means I’d be here the entire night, right?”

“Of course I do, what am I, a fool?”

“Maybe.”

Or, more likely, it’s him that’s the fool.

“Do you need to be somewhere tomorrow?”

For once, he’s honest.

“No.”

“Then what’s the harm in staying?”

Glancing out the window again, he sees that sunlight has nearly disappeared, blocked by both the horizon and the clouds thick in the sky. Looking back and forth between your humming figure and the door, its frame wet with the rain that leaks through the cracks, he realizes that you’re right.

He gets up from the cushioned seat and moves over to his wheelchair, admitting reluctant resolve as he wheels over to you, stopping between the front and back of the house.

He knows he’ll regret this later, when the moon has replaced the star in the sky, and he’s forced to confront the fact that he’s not deserving of this sort of compassion.

But, for reasons unrealized by both him and the gods above, he can’t bring himself to deny the sun, even if he is undeserving of its warmth.

“Where do I start?”

｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☀︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ

Quite surprisingly, the ensuing night is silent.

Levi supposes that he shouldn’t be startled that you don’t talk much; you are still working, to some capacity, and he’s already settled into the fact that you aren’t all that talkative when you’re in his company.

The kitchen is dirtied in fresh flour and dirty dishes—obviously, a mess regardless, but one that doesn’t particular irk Levi, especially considering the fact that you’re the only person who works here—so Levi gets to work on cleaning that, and you’re sat at a table in the front of the house, handling finances and other paper tasks. You have half a sandwich with you at the table, and Levi is given the other.

Thankfully, his legs decide that today isn’t the day to curse him with excruciating pain, so he’s quite quick in getting everything sorted out and cleaned. There’s some things he can’t do, like put away large basins of flour or sugar, but other than a few stray items which only need to be put back in their proper places, the dishes get done, the perishables are put neatly into the fridge, the floor is swept, and kitchen is spic-and-span.

When he finishes, he gets back down in his wheelchair, and he goes to report to you that nearly everything’s done. However, you don’t seem to notice the sound of his wheels as they glide across the tile flooring, seemingly enamored in whatever it is you’re reading while you tap your pen against your lip.

The way you’re sat, one leg bent over the other, face propped up with one hand as eyes follow arcane words on the page, reminds him of how he’d sit at his own desk when he was in the military.

Whatever it is that you’re looking at, you pull your pen away from your lip and sign on a line, then slumping forward and sighing as you turn your head to put it down comfortably.

And, of course, Levi just had to be already looking at you from that position, so when you open your eyes to sit yourself up again, you make eye contact with him through the window of your arm and the ceiling.

Not expecting him to be there, you’re slightly startled, and you immediately straighten your back and sit up. “Oh! Are you finished in the kitchen?”

Levi nods. “I didn’t know where some things were supposed to be kept, so I left them on the counter. Nothing perishable, though.”

“That’s alright. Thank you, Levi,” you yawn and twist your upper body back and forth, holding onto the back of the chair as you turn. “And good timing, I’m about done with bookkeeping, so I’ll head up with you.” You gather together your books and pens and papers, putting them all into a folder, and you motion for Levi to follow you back through the kitchen and through a door which leads to the larger building’s hallways. There’s a set of stairs at the end of the hall, and it seems that’s where you’re leading him.

Levi’s about to comment on the fact that he’s really not sure he’s willing to haul both himself and his wheelchair up an entire flight of stairs, but you stop before you can, and you turn to walk another corner, and the two of you find yourselves in front of an elevator.

You press the button to go up, and you smile down at Levi, your papers tucked underneath your arm. “Sorry I’m not all that talkative after hours, I’m probably not as fun as you thought I was.”

That’s not a problem at all.

“I don’t care.”

When the elevator doors open, you let him on the platform first, and you follow inside to stand beside him and click on the button for the 2nd floor.

You close your eyes on the ascent, and Levi takes this as chance to glance at you from where he is.

Your ribbon sways as you do, humming to yourself as you wait for the elevator to reach the upstairs. There’s a soft smile on your face, flour slightly caught on your nose, and a bit of ink staining the parts of your lip where it’d met pen.

The yellow of your apron is brightened here, white lights of the elevator much more harsh than the natural light of the downstairs bakery. The frills on the edge of its skirt are more starkly defined here, and with the slight movement of your hips, they seem to blow like they’re in the breeze.

In a way, watching you here, he feels the way he feels when the sun starts to go to sleep. 

When the system beeps to tell you that you’ve reached your level, Levi pulls his eyes away from you, and he listens carefully as you yawn once more and tip your head where he’s meant to follow you. 

When you’re at your apartment door, you take out a key from the pocket of your dress, undo the lock, and you hold it open for Levi to come in first. He does, nodding as thanks, and you close it behind you.

“Make yourself at home, I’m going to take a quick shower,” you tell him sweetly, slipping past him to head for the bathroom.

Levi nods, and he takes a second to just comprehend the fact that he’s even here at all.

Looking around, he sees that your apartment is very… you.

In the past four months that Levi’s known you, he’s hardly learned anything personal. Though he’s gradually become more comfortable in your presence, very little words are exchanged apart from poking fun at each other or talking about things more paramount than life itself. All he knows about you, at this singular point in time, is that you’re incessantly kind, wonderfully talented at baking, and hard-working, but that all seems to show up here, in this little capsule you call home.

From what he can see from his view at the entrance, everything is spotlessly clean. On the dining table, there’s a few potted herbs growing from sprouts, and on the counters of the kitchenette adjacent to the door, there’s an array of various teas, one of which is the kind he himself drinks at home, as well as a dish-drying rack latent with measuring cups and utensils.

Further inwards is a couch with a neatly folded blanket and several pillows, all dyed with pale colors of the sky. There’s a coffee table in the center of the living room, the glass seemingly well-loved with faint stains of hot metal and water spots that won’t fade.

And, just outside your window, there’s an assortment of all sorts of plants, strewn and wrapped around the railing of your balcony. That very first time he’d sat and had his cake while you had your tea, those very leaves fell from there and landed like slow on people strolling through the street below, and, underneath the rain, the greenery reflects moonlight onto the pale, wooden floor.

Levi, conscious of the fact that his wheelchair would ruin the floor if he used it to get around, gets up as best he can and walks over to the couch, planting himself in the cushions and staring up at the ceiling.

He breathes slowly, too cautious to make even a sound, and in the distance, he hears the stronger sound of shower water hitting porcelaine. His mind’s hazy as he’s still forced to listen to the falling rain, pitter-pattering just a few feet away from him, and he has to completely abandon his head to give himself way to not think too hard about what the rain carries with it.

Both fortunately and unfortunately, he’s mastered the art of turning minutes into seconds for himself, and he has no meaningful thoughts between the time you’ve started your shower and now returned with a towel draped over your shoulders.

You’re dressed much more casually here, in a loose-fitting shirt and shorts. It’s the first time that he’s seeing you with your hair down, always used to seeing you with a ribbon tying it away from your face.

He already thought you were pretty enough during the daytime, your hair ribbon blowing in the breeze and the thread of your apron matching that of the stitch on his right gardening glove, but even with how muddled his mind is here, his breath is stolen again by the sight of you here, fresh out of the shower, your hair wet and dripping water onto your garments.

He can only be thankful that you seem too nonchalant to pay any mind to him, blindly walking over to the couch from the bathroom. Once you reach him, you hand him a spare towel as you take a seat next to him, pushing your back up against the couch. “I’m so tired,” you yawn once more, stretching out your legs. “Did you want to freshen up before bed?”

He looks down at the towel, rubbing his thumb against the fibers.

Yes.

But he knows he’s already taken advantage enough of you even allowing him to stay the night.

“I’m alright. You should go to bed.”

You hum next to him, joining in his ceiling gazing. In his periphery, he sees you flutter your eyes closed and relax your face, but he refuses to look too hard.

“Is this about you not wanting to be an inconvenience again?”

Yes .

“No.”

“Somehow, I doubt that.”

Is he that easy to read?

Levi gulps. “Really, you can just go to sleep already. I’ll be fine on the couch.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to offer that you take the bed if you weren’t going to shower,” you jest, chuckling next to him. There’s a shift in the weight on the couch as you slowly get up, and when you turn to face him before heading off to your room, there’s a quiet, shy smile on your face, framed perfectly with moonlight. “I’m going to bed, then. You’ll probably see me in the morning, but if you miss me, I’ll see you next week.”

And with that and a wave goodnight, you’re gone, and all that Levi feels is a soft towel underneath the pads of the fingers on his left hand.

｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☀︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ

After several hours of complete silence wherein Levi only stared up at the ceiling, trying to escape his mind as he forces himself to reassess the feeling of the couch fabric against his aching bones, he hears the opening of a door.

More specifically, your bedroom’s door.

That’s odd on its own. The sun isn’t anywhere near out, and he hadn’t heard any stir from your room to assume you’d had a bad dream.

Levi closes his eyes to feign sleep, but he’s (very) apparently bad at it when he feels a faint breeze as you wave your hand in front of his face. His eyes flutter open, and he’s met with the sight of you, hands now behind your back as you tie on your apron over a long dress. You haven’t turned the lights on, so there’s only pale moonglow to light your apartment, yet his eyes trace your features like a moth to a flame.

“What’re you doing up?” He whispers, his voice scratchy.

You raise a brow at him. “More like, why are you up?”

Couldn’t sleep.

“I asked first.”

You hum to yourself, looking between him and the door. “I have to head down to the bakery soon.”

He looks to the clock on the wall. 3:45 AM.

“This early?”

“Yeah, all those sweets don’t make themselves,” you sigh airily, leaving him at the couch to grab your bookkeeping items at the kitchen counter. “I’m used to it, though, so it’s alright.”

“It still sounds like torture.”

“Your turn now.”

He waits until you’re headed for the shoe rack by the door, faced away from him.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

There’s the faint sound of fabric on fabric as you slide on your shoes, then a slight jangling of keys as you go to the hook by the door to put them in your pocket. You open the front door, and you look back at him over your shoulder, smiling sadly for him.

“Want to come with me, then? I can get you something to eat, if you’re just going to be awake anyway.”

When Levi hesitates to answer, you immediately perk up and wave your hands out in front of you.

“You don’t have to, I just thought I’d offer!”

. . .

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

The when I’m who I am is left out of the question, just as it was the last time he’d asked this, but he’s still afraid you’d heard it anyway.

You groan, throwing back your head as you do so. “You’ve already asked this before.”

That’s because he still doesn’t understand.

“Then you can answer it again.”

“Ok, well now you have to come with me,” you sigh. “Come on, old man.”

He frowns halfheartedly, but he starts to pull himself up from the couch, unable to do away with your offer. “Who are you calling old?”

“Gee, I wonder,” you sass, scoffing. “You’re, like, what? A thousand?”

Maybe it’s because you can tell that he’s upset about something, or maybe it’s because he’s so exhausted that he thinks anything that anyone says is funny.

Whichever reason it is, he’s thankful that you’ve got him smiling, even if only in spirit, and that he’s got enough strength to walk over to you, lightly knock the back of your head, and go put on his shoes.

Might as well just tell you now. 

“40.”

“Wow, I knew you were old, but I didn’t think you were that old,” you playfully prod, reorienting his wheelchair so that he can sit in it easier from where he’s already standing. “You certainly don’t look 40, though. Good for you!”

You hold it in place for him, and he rolls his eyes as he sits down. “Yeah, right, and you were born yesterday.”

“If 36 years ago counts as ‘yesterday,’ then, yes, you’d be correct.”

Levi sighs. “Let’s just fucking go.”

You laugh, lighting up the room with sunshine as you shake your head and open the door wider for wider to go through. “Whatever you say, old man.”

｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☀︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ

In the kitchen, Levi’s earnestly caught in a daze as he watches you get everything in order for opening.

It’s calming in its own right, that he gets to watch you do what you love and see the passion with which you move with in your own space. There’s a window just above the sink, and the moon is right there where the sun will rise in a couple hours. 

True to your word, you give him something to eat. You set down a loaf of bread, some butter, and a bowl of fruit in front of him for Levi to have as a makeshift breakfast, and while he chips away at it, cautiously taking bites to be polite even if he isn’t all that hungry, he tries to think of how to ask you how he can help.

He wants to help. He really, really does. If for no other reason, his conscience is screaming at him to try and be of help, to find himself reason to say that this could be his in this life.

But you work quickly—too quickly—and Levi barely understands what’s happening as you pull out basins of all these ingredients he can’t name. Things get put in the oven, back in the freezer, covered in thin cloths. You mumble instructions to yourself as you hold what looks like an inventory card in your left hand, doing things with your right, and all Levi knows to do is watch and try to figure out what’s happening.

In a way, he’s not surprised to see that you’re not as talkative as he’d imagine, all with everything that’s seemingly on your shoulders—having to bake an entire day’s worth of inventory all on your own, taking care of bookkeeping, being swarmed with company all hours of the day.

And even though you don’t ask for anything, only smiling at him when you accidentally make eye contact with him between searching for appliances and ingredients, Levi can’t help but feel like he’s bothering you by being here, burdening you with an unuseful presence.

“Is there anything I can do?” He asks, now having finished a decent amount of the bread and butter you’d given him. It tastes divine, even in its simplicity, but he doesn’t have the heart to finish it.

You hum, not looking up as you turn on the culinary scale on the counter and set a large bowl on it. “Nothing I can think of in particular. Antsy to keep your hands busy?”

No, he just doesn’t want to be dead weight.

“Sure.”

You turn your face away from the counter, yawning before looking behind where you’re standing at some labeled glass containers of tea. “Think you could make some tea for me?”

Would he even know how to make anything but the bitter, boring black tea he sips in the nighttime?

He ought to at least give it a try.

“Alright.”

Your eyes scan the containers before your hand reaches out to grab one, and you lean over the countertop on your tippy-toes to push it across to Levi.

He catches it, and he turns the glass around to read the label. White Peony.

Well, he’s fucked.

“There’s a kettle over by the stove,” you tell him, settling back on your feet and walking over to the refrigerator. “Make some for yourself, too, if you want. I have plenty of other blends on the shelf”

He most definitely isn’t going to brew anything for himself, but he appreciates that, even after all this time, you still extend the offer.

He hates the fact that he still can’t accept it, though.

And he hates that you’re still wasting your effort in getting him to.

He wheels himself over to the kettle, remembering where it’d been last night when he was cleaning the kitchen, and he fills it with water from a faucet marked for drinking. Going back to the stove, he places the kettle on the heated rings, and turning the dial, he lights the flame.

He waits, staring at the flame as it licks the underside of the metal, and he follows it upwards as the water steams from the spout and draws wisps in the cold, morning air of this kitchen. The kettle whistles, and he takes it from the heat to keep it from boiling over.

Near where he’d found the kettle, there’s your personal teaware set, composed with a teapot, two cups, and a tea infuser on a tray. He stands briefly to pull it closer to himself, and after lifting the lid to the pot, he opens the container of tea you’d given him, and he holds it over the pot and the infuser.

He hasn’t got any clue of how much you’d need to flavor a pot, so he takes his best guess and puts in about as much as he would at home with the black tea leaves he uses. He tips it into the infuser, careful not to let any dried petals spill, he closes it, and gently drops it to the bottom of the pot.

He pours the hot water from the kettle over the tea, tipping the spout slowly so as to not splash it onto himself, and he puts the lid back on. On the panel above the oven, just right next to the stove, there’s a small clock, so he watches and waits for the five minutes he thinks it’ll take for the tea to finish brewing.

He looks over his shoulder to see you now, shaping buttery dough and placing it onto trays on the countertop, biting your bottom lip in concentration. There’s a swipe of flour on your brow, as well as some that’s caught on your cheek, but you look so focused that he can only assume that you’re unbothered by it.

He clears his throat to get your attention, and the furrow at your brow disappears as you look up at him. “Your tea is ready.”

“Thank you! I’ll be there in a second,” you singsong, smiling at him. “I hate to ask, but could you pour it for me? My hands are a bit preoccupied.”

He nods. “Sure.”

As he moves the teacup closer to him to remove the infuser and pour it, he hears you finish up with the bun and go over to the sink near him to wash your hands, flicking off the excess water before reaching for a paper towel. Levi’s hands are careful to not spill any tea, and when the teacup is filled he slides it closer to where you are.

He watches as you pick it up to take a sip, and he crosses his fingers in his lap that you like it.

. . .

And, because the universe is out to get him, it’s painfully obvious from the sudden downturn of your smile that you don’t.

You pull the teacup from your lips and cough, putting it back on the counter and burying your face into your elbow.

Levi has no idea what to do, the horror of the situation freezing him in place, and all he can do once the initial shock passes is reach for a napkin on the counter to give to you. “Shit, I’m sorry!”

You take it hastily and wipe at your mouth, pulling it away from your face to see if it’s collected any color. You clear your throat aggressively, and you sniffle. “Wow.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you cough again, “it’s just really strong.”

“I’m sorry, I put in as much as I use when I-”

Fuck.

He catches himself in his lie, and he’s grateful that don’t seem to notice his pause.

“When I make it for houseguests.”

You sniffle again, and you slide the teapot to yourself, opening the lid to see the rest of the brew. “Well, you better stop putting so much, or no one’s ever going to come back,” you laugh.

You pick up your cup again, and before Levi can speak up to tell you that he’d be more than happy to try again under your instruction, you take another sip, wincing afterwards.

“Why are you still drinking it?”

You take another sip before taking it with you, going back to the dough and portioning off another piece to start shaping it, your hands delicately handling it as you pat it down on the countertop. “I might as well, right?”

“I can try again, you don’t have to drink it if you’re worried about me being offended. I know it tastes like shit.”

You giggle, shaking your head. “It’s not perfect, but I don’t mind.”

. . .

You don’t?

Surely, you do, and you’re just not telling him.

He can barely stomach the thought of anything but the tea he knows—the one that’s boring, painfully strong, always the same—how could you be fine with yours being brewed so completely wrong?

“Just tell me how to do it properly, and I will.”

“It’s alright, you already went to the trouble. I can tell you put some love in it, too,” you wink, putting another piece onto a baking tray. You split off another portion of dough. “I can always make another cup for myself later, anyway. It’s not a big deal.”

“But, still, if you could just have a better cup now-”

“Ah, ah, ah,” you tut, holding up your index finger at him. “ I am the king of this kitchen right now, not you, and what I say goes.”

“But your tea-”

“And I say that this tea is completely fine, so shut up, and come help me put these trays in the oven.”

Levi feels a hiccup bubbling up in his throat, telling him to fight harder to make sure that you’re actually fine with the tea he’d brewed for you in his morning stupor, but with the way you’re looking at him, eyes shining with playful willingness, he forces himself to swallow it and just accept that he can’t force humility onto you.

Fuck.

“Fine.”

｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☀︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ

It takes Levi nearly two cycles of the moon to come back to the bakery, meaning he returns in no more than two month’s time later.

Why he takes so long to return, you might ask?

Well, after having completely made a fool of himself by making your tea incorrectly (and the banter which took place in the thereafter), you and him worked in near silence as you got ready to finish getting ready for the day. It’s with conviction that he says he cannot remember most of it, in a rush as you gave him orders to do miscellaneous things around the kitchen and clean up little, unimportant messes.

That much of the morning was normal enough.

And, truthfully, the rest of it was too.

He’d helped you clean tables in the front, loaded up confectionaries in the display case, watered the potted herbs on the shelf with a small watering can you’d kept underneath an awning that collected rainwater. You’d given him a slice of plain cream cake, and he ate it at the table in the corner as you got to putting the potted plant by the door and finishing up with some things in the kitchen. When he’d left, you’d sent him off with a smile, a wave, and a box of chocolate tarts to bring home for the kids, secured to the back of his wheelchair in a cloth bag with white ribbon keeping it stable, and he’d tried his best to tell you in his own way that he was grateful for you affording him shelter for the evening. 

Of course, he’d been nervous as all hell all throughout, but he was fine.

Everything was fine.

And you’d never force it out of him, but it was the most at peace he’d felt in a long time, even if he did ruin your morning pot of tea.

So, really, it wasn’t anything that had happened that kept him from you.

What’d kept him from coming back was his own conscience, and its insistence that he needs to distance himself from you, for reasons he can’t name other than the nervous feeling which reaches the tips of his fingers when he thinks of you. He’d done a decent enough job at swatting away the feeling before, but it’s been gnawing at him recently in a way that’s too troublesome to ignore.

In that kitchen, with you, the clock had ticked slowly, just as it always did at that time of day, but it wasn’t at all forlorn in the way he’d learned it to be.

4 in the morning, in his world, is when his eyes will burn, and he has to force himself to search the labyrinth of his mind for happy memories to subside those less so. When his chair starts to feel uncomfortably stuffy, and he has to bear the pain until it’s too much. When he has to take a walk around the fields outside to clear his head, and he has to do it all over again when it’s 4 in the morning the next day.

4 in the morning, in your world, is when you fill the bakery with the homely smell of fresh bread, when cakes get decorated and pastries get put together. When your ribbon blows in the swift morning gale which comes through the lone window—when you’re most at peace, and, surprisingly so, when he is too—, and you get to do it all over again when it’s 4 in the morning the next day.

The evening following that time spent with you, when it’d became 4 in the morning, he had thought of you; tying on your apron with warm hands, watching the moon through glass that’s frosted over in cold, morning fog, wiping fingerprint smudges off of windowpane.

It comforted him—the thought that you were awake, too, only doing things that made you happy.

The thought that somewhere, not too far away from the world he resides in, you’re there in your own.

And he feels like he isn’t welcome there—in your world—even at your best protest.

He’s not supposed to be happy at 4 in the morning, for that’s nothing he’s ever known to be at that time of day.

Or at any time of day, really.

In the ensuing mornings, when the clock would click into place at 4:00, it was all he could think about, all he could remember, all he could feel.

And it feels wrong.

He’s supposed to be acting in remembrance—half-alive and fully-awake as he forces himself to remember his lives past lived, gripping the armrests of his chair and feeling the leather start to peel underneath his fingernails. The solace he’d found in the knowledge that you were also awake when he was eroded in the same manner the moon crescented, and it became something he’d felt shame for.

And he has no idea what to do about it—the comfort which gives way for light to reach his empty heart. He’d already experienced enough while in your presence alone; how could he allow you to do the same and worse to him even during the hours of the day reserved for only the darkest parts of himself?

Levi’s not an idiot. He knows all too well that he’s getting attached.

Which is why he chooses to stay away.

It doesn’t do much. He still thinks of you in the wee hours of the morning, how your hair had fallen over your shoulders when he’d seen it down, how you’d always leave a cup of tea out for him to try, how you’d smiled at him when he’d left that morning. He goes past the bakery every so often, seeing it in passing after going to the market for miscellaneous items he needs for the house.

But he keeps at it, willing himself to stay at his quiet little farmhouse, spending his days doing nothing of importance.

He has his tea, he gardens in the fields and sprays the insecticide he’d bought so long ago, he tries to find sleep in his chair. He makes spinach soup for the kids because they refuse to eat vegetables from anywhere but the garden they help pick from and water, and he’ll send Gabi off with some of the day’s harvest for her cousin. He’d celebrated Gabi’s birthday with her, Falco, Onyankopon, and those tarts you’d given him before he’d left, lit a candle for Moblit on his, and was forced to join the 104th at a bar for Springer’s.

So many things, all amounting to nothing.

But it’s not like he has anything else to do.

And it’s not like you would’ve missed him, anyway, now that he’s stopped coming.

What’s there about a man like him to miss?

But, in the end, he’s bound to routine and its troubles all the same, and his hands eventually find themselves pushing forward the wheels to take him back to the bakery. And maybe he could blame his heart, telling him that he needs to see you again, even if he’s sure he isn’t detached enough yet to brave the sight of you, but it’s truly without intention that he finds himself back here.

He’ll come, say a brief hello, order, and leave. That much should keep his mind at ease, his heart satisfied.

And, besides, today is his mother’s birthday.

In years past, he’d simply pour out an extra cup of tea to share with her spirit, but with how its seemingly become more commonpractice among himself and his friends to celebrate birthdays and other events more formally, he thinks he ought to get a cake for her, and he can’t imagine anywhere else he’d go to fetch that but your bakery.

As he approaches its spot at the corner of the road, he feels a squeeze in his chest, telling him for the thousandth time that he’s not supposed to be here, but there’s a tug on his heartstrings which tells him to suck it up and just brave the worse parts of his conscience.

But before he can even begin to question why, the windows are blocked with curtains he’s never seen closed before, the door isn’t propped open with an annoyingly large potted plant, and there’s not a trace of the life there’d been in the months prior before he’d stopped coming.

He remains still in his wheelchair in front of the closed door, staring up at a small sign hanging from it.

Temporarily Closed!

. . .

He feels no breeze as he rereads the words, over and over again. He knows there’s wind—his hair blows with it, prickling his eyes—but he feels none of it. He only feels as if he’s stuck there, trying to fool himself into thinking he’s misreading the sign.

It’s closed?

Maybe this is the universe telling him that he should’ve found another, more shitty bakery to get his mother’s birthday cake from.

That he should’ve stayed at home in the first place, and that he should’ve just steeled himself for long enough to lose the desire to come back.

That he wasn’t meant to come here at all.

That he’s not wanted here.

That he’s not supposed to be here.

The feeling is nearly as painful as the thought that you’ve closed shop.

What happened to the bakery?

How long is “temporarily?”

Where are you?

What’re you doing now?

How’re you doing now?

Are you okay?

He knows that he has no right to be asking in the first place, especially given the fact that he’s been absent for long enough for this to even transpire.

But-

Actually, no.

He does have no right to be asking those questions.

It’s none of his business anymore. He’s been gone for so long that he has no right to be worried.

He’ll go home, pour out two cups of that same boring black tea, and he’ll mull over all the ways he can try to salvage the faint heartbreak he feels here. It’s of his own doing that he’s found himself having missed opportunity to come here again, and it’s too late.

Just as he’s finally gotten back control of his body and is about to leave, there’s a leaf that falls in front of him, and he takes his hands off the grips of his wheelchair to catch it between his fingers. It feels crisp in his hands, like that pink ticket that’d brought him back here in the first place.

Looking up to see the plant from which the leaf had fallen, there’s long leaves of the plants above the awning and on your balcony that sway with the wind, drawing in sunlight and dripping with water. There’s a glare from a window from across the way, but because of the rust that’s lightly coating the railing, it doesn’t burn his eyes.

And he sees a white ribbon, moving alongside the zephyr.

And because his soul speaks for him, he calls your name.

The two tails of the ribbon get pulled in by hands that’re familiar to him, even after having not seen them since two moons past, and from over the raining, you appear, looking down at him.

There’s an expression he can’t read on your face as you and him make eye contact.

And you disappear, just as you’d came into view.

God fucking damn it.

He knew he never should’ve come here.

He should’ve listened to the better part of his conscience—the part that thinks with his brain, not his heart.

He should’ve kept at building the distance he’d try to foster between the two of you. The one-sided attachment he has to you should’ve been enough to tell him that he’s better off just trying to forget the last five months ever happened.

He should’ve known better.

He lets the leaf in his hands drop to the stone road, and he looks back at the door that’s still just as closed as it was seconds ago.

Well, there’s nothing else to do but go back in the direction from which he came.

He can’t even bring himself to sigh the breath of loss as he grabs hold of his wheels again, reorienting himself to head home.

He’s slow as he moves, pushing forward across stone that’s a bit bumpy and covered with strewn green. He keeps his eyes downward, shame surely evident on his features as he waits for himself to fully gain control of his body and mind again.

It’ll be okay.

He’ll find another shitty bakery to get his mother’s birthday cake.

He’ll stay home.

He’ll not come here again.

He’ll know he’s not wanted here.

He’ll know he’s not supposed to be here.

He’s broken out of his thoughts when he hears the echo of a bell ringing, and before he can look over his shoulder to see what’s the source of that sound, he feels warmth around his chest.

Arms from behind are wrapped around him, firm yet gentle, and there’s a weight on his left shoulder as a head gets placed there. He can hear labored breaths, as if someone had just come running down the stairs. There’s the faint smell of sugar and tea tickling his nose, and he feels the satin of a ribbon falling over into his lap.

”Levi!”

It’s you.

For just a second, his body tenses up, unsure of how to react to the feeling of yours against his.

And, just as soon as he’s finally begun to even comprehend the idea that he could relax into your embrace and let himself crumble under the weight of relief, you pull away from him and move to stand in front of him, your hands on your knees as you bend down to meet him at eye level.

He only knows how to stare dumbly at the you who now beams at him with a smile that reaches your eyes.

“It’s good to see you again, I missed you!”

. . .

You…

missed him?

Levi’s heart drops. “You did?”

“Of course I did!”

. . .

“Why?”

You look at him with confusion. “You came every Wednesday, why wouldn’t I miss you?”

“I’m sorry,” he manages to whisper.

You wave him off. “Don’t be, I’m just glad to see you. What’ve you been up to for the past two months?”

“...Nothing.”

“Oh, come on. An old man like you has nothing to do?” You tease playfully. “No grandkids to take care of?”

He deadpans. “Ha, ha, very funny.

“They liked the tarts you sent me off with, though. They said to say ‘thank you.’”

To the pretty lady who works at the bakery, they’d also said to pass along, but Levi isn’t going to say that.

“Tell them it’s no problem, I’m glad they liked them.”

“I will.”

You chuckle, shaking your head and standing up straight again. “So, what brings you back here today?”

“I was going to get a birthday cake, but the bakery is kind of,” he kisses his teeth, “closed.”

You hum, looking over to the blocked out windows. “Well, you’d be right about that.”

“What happened?”

“What happened to what?” You ask sarcastically. “You mean to the bakery?”

He nods.

You laugh, putting your hands into the pockets of your dress. “Funny story, it got broken into.”

Levi’s heart drops even further. “What?”

You wince, nodding. “Yeah, it was a while ago, not too long after your last visit. The bakery was closed, and some people came through and wrecked everything looking for money. Everything in the front is basically torn to shreds, and there’s still glass on the floor from when they broke the display case.”

“What fucking idiot breaks a dessert display to look for money?”

You chuckle. “The ones that robbed me, I guess. They did some real damage, though.”

“But did they find it?”

“What, the money?” You sadly smile. “Yeah.”

His heart falls to the pit of his stomach.

“...Are you okay?”

“Well, I’m here right now, aren’t I?” You laugh. “But I was out shopping for something when it happened, so I wasn’t hurt or anything.”

Thank fuck, but that's what he meant.

"But the money-"

"It wasn't all of it, just what I kept downstairs. Really, don't worry about me."

He's still going to, anyway.

He frowns. “I’m sorry. That's all horrible.”

You shrug halfheartedly. “I’ve cried about it plenty already, no real point in staying upset. I’ll be able to reopen eventually, so it’ll all be okay in the end.”

How could any of this be okay?

He frowns, hearing that you’d cried.

And it makes his heart heavier, knowing that he’d spent all this time thinking you’d been awake in the mornings baking when you weren’t doing that at all.

Knowing that he’d wasted his time being selfishly obsessed with distancing himself from you, to the point that you had missed him, even when you had plenty of other, more important things to worry about than him not coming back to the bakery.

And he only has himself to blame for him not being there for you when this’d all happened.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks cautiously.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Maybe because there’s a grief in losing your work?

“Having to close, even temporarily, sounds hard.”

“I wouldn’t lie to you, I swear I’m fine,” you say, looking up at the sky.

You’re lying.

You don’t say anything else, so Levi’s eyes follow yours to the sky. He himself doesn’t really know what else there is to say, given the gravity of this, so there’s a silence, but it’s not the one that hangs overhead when Levi would come on Wednesdays. This quiet is only there because you don’t want to talk or even think about the bakery, and it’s painfully obvious to Levi that there’s something wrong.

It feels wrong, to say the least, but at least he’s not the one to confront that when, after what feels like a lifetime of cloudgazing, you clear your throat.

“Who’s birthday is it, if you don’t mind me asking?”

He keeps his eyes trained above, speaking slowly. “My mother’s.”

You hum. “It’s nice of you to think to get a cake for her. You’re a good son.”

Is he?

“I should let you go. I wouldn’t want you to be late meeting her.”

Levi doesn’t want to go, but he knows he has to, if for no reason other than the fact that he knows he’s wasting your time by being here.

“Right,” he sighs. “Do you know any bakeries nearby?”

“I hope you know you aren’t allowed to be a regular customer anywhere else,” you joke. “When I reopen, you better come back and sit at that corner table every Wednesday again.”

He can’t say that he’ll be able to fend off the devil on his shoulder, but he’ll try his best if that’s what you’re asking of him. “No promises.”

“I guess that’s good enough for me,” you smile goodnaturedly, now looking at him. “Well, if you’re looking for a cake somewhere else, what flavors does she like?”

Did like.

In any case, he isn’t sure she’d ever had a cake in her life in the first place to have a flavor to call her favorite.

“I don’t really know. I suppose anything would be fine”

You hum. “You could try the shop three streets down. They have a bit of everything, but it’s kinda expensive.”

He hadn’t brought any more money than it’d cost to get a cake from your bakery because he didn’t want to be tempted to get something for himself while he was here.

“Anywhere else?”

“Um,” you look around, tapping your index finger on your cheek. “There’s a bakery by the clock tower at the center of the city, but I think they’re also pretty expensive because it’s owned by a company.”

He frowns. “Is anything around here affordable?”

You snort. “No, absolutely not.”

“And that’s all the bakeries?”

“...Yeah, at least all the good ones.”

Well, he certainly isn’t going to disrespect his mother and get her a bad cake.

He sighs. “It’s fine.”

Levi can just go back home and do what he always does when it’s his mother’s birthday.

He supposes that it’s tradition begging to be kept, if he can’t get a cake for her. Maybe he can stop on the way back home and grab some flowers instead-

“Actually, when do you have to meet with her?”

“What? Why’re you asking?”

“Ah, well,” you look up to your balcony, “if you could wait a few hours, I can make the cake for you. The bakery kitchen might not be available for business, but the one in my apartment works just as well.”

“What? You don’t have to do that.”

You have better things to do with your personal time than do this for him.

“Well, it’s not fair to your mother that she doesn’t have a cake on her birthday just because some small-time criminals decided to rob my bakery.”

It’s also not fair that your bakery was robbed in the first place. You don’t need to be downplaying how much it’s hurting you to have to close shop.

“It’s alright, you don’t have to-”

“You still haven’t answered my question,” you raise.

Because there is no answer. He’s not going to see his mother, and he’s never going to be able to again.

“...It’s subject to change.”

You smile. “Then it’s settled.”

“What is?”

“I’ll make you your cake.”

He frowns. “What choice do I have if you’re just going to insist anyway?”

“Well, I can’t force it into your hands, but if you came all this way already, then you must’ve really wanted a cake from me, right?”

And what’s he supposed to say to that?

No, I hate your baking, and I would rather go home empty-handed on my mother’s birthday than accept your help.

So he stays silent, and you take that as him giving in, and you flash a smile at him.

“That’s what I thought,” you start, making your way back over to the bakery door. You remain looking at him, one hand of the door handle after you’ve opened it, and he just stares back.

“What’re you looking at me for?”

“Do you want to come up and help? It’s okay if you don’t, I don’t mind delivering it to you.”

His heart breaks.

Why are you trying so hard?

“You’re really not going to change your mind, are you?”

You tilt your head in confusion, ever-oblivious to the storm in his mind. “Uh, it’d be really mean-spirited if I told you I’d make you a cake and then not give you one at all, so no, I’m not going to change my mind."

“I meant about-” he pauses, unsure.

About helping him all the time.

“Nevermind.”

“So… are you coming up or not? I can’t hold this door open forever.”

“You’re really going to waste your time like this?”

He’s sure you have other things you could be doing right now, you don’t have to do this for him.

“Levi, it’s just a cake. You don’t have to worry about the trouble.”

He finds any defense he can.

“But it’s cake for someone you don’t know.”

“I may not know her, but I know you. That’s enough reason on its own, isn’t it?”

“I just don’t think-”

“Levi,” you call, “enough of feeling sorry for me. Are you coming up, or do I need to collect your address to bring this to you later?”

Levi purses his lips.

He has no right to come up to your apartment again, to spend even more of your precious time.

Regardless of whether or not he wants to, he doesn’t know you.

All he does is stare outside a window with you, take advantage of your kindness, and will himself to come there every fourth-cycle of the moon to give himself some semblance of purpose in this life in the form of yearning and cake. He’d stopped, and now he’s back to only find himself begging his soul for the freedom to to feel his heart.

But, in the way you speak, you make it sound like you know him.

And even though he knows you don’t know him any more than he knows you, there’s nothing more he could ask for that could compare to the compassion of your heart, given to him forlorn in the way he’s never learnt it could be, even if his mind and soul are in such discord that they can’t decide whether or not that’s allowed of a person like him.

 And, in the way you’re looking at him here, practically holding out a hand to him, he can tell that you need someone.

Even if he doesn’t think he should be that someone, he’ll try his best.

It won’t be worth much, but it’s the least he can do to at least try and justify this decision to the part of himself that tells him he’s better off accepting the fact that he’s so unwholly a person deserving of even trying.

He puts his palms to metal and pushes forward, slipping past you through the gap in the door that you hold open.

He’ll put aside his own selfish, meaningless tendencies, but he can only hope to begin to accept the warmth of someone like you, who shines as brightly as the sun.

“I’ll help.”

｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☀︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ

continue chapter one!

[anathemafiction]

Fiz bandeira de um velho ditado

Alessa stares out into a deep, red sunset. Clouds shred the skies in strokes of gold, and a band of pigeons flies overhead, the sound of their wings flapping like the whispers of forbidden gods. 

She can hear the murmur of a dozen voices behind her, muffled by the walls of the brightly-lit inn but no less boisterous. 

Ahead, there's a view fit for a painting. Alessa inhales the fresh air, blue eyes watching the last light of a dying day. She is used to being cold, but Alessa finds herself shivering at the approaching night. 'Tis a beautiful view. 

And she has none to share it with.

Melhor só que mal acompanhado

One hand grips a patched satchel.

The other holds the only possession Harian could take with him. His black sword. He's panting, sweat drips from his forehead, and the blood pounding against his eardrums yells at him to keep going. But when Hadrian reaches the apex of the hill, he comes to a stunned stop. 

The land opens before him. 

Behind, too close, so far away, are the high walls of his Order. Hadrian almost looks back; he almost goes back. Instead, he makes his legs take another step. And then another. And one other after that. For the first time in his life, Hadrian walks alone.

 Nem pensava em apoiar, Os pés no chão

She crawls out from the ashes, lungs burning, eyes watering, throat like the hottest pit of hell. Her skin is red agony, her muscles shredded, her tendons torn, her heart beating out of pure spite. 

Neia, the former Dawnseeker, takes a deep, ragged, pain-filled breath. And then, she screams. 

A dark cloud of crows scatters away from her.

A specter rises to her feet, scorched, blood too dry to bleed, yelling still. When Neia has no more air left in the pitiful excuse for her lungs, she looks at her grave — the charred remains of a holy pyre. There is no one else. 

She's reborn alone.

Olho em volta, Agora estou sozinho

The ocean is a flat, moving plain, stretching to impossible horizons. 

A dozen, two scores, half a hundred vessels surround him like a curved wall. The Pirate stands at the bow of his ship, the figurehead braving the waters, nine fingers holding the damp-wooden railing. Lights shine from a hundred different windows, replicating the cold glow of the millions of stars above.

The ocean breeze is calm. He inhales the salt-filled air. 

His armada. 

The Pirate smiles, but his dark eyes do not glint. His armada, and his alone.

Não liguei às placas do caminho

On the top floor of a high, impossible tower, two windows sit on opposite ends. One faces south, the other north. There is no corridor connecting the two, no hidden passage, no hall or arched hallway. The rooms are sealed in the impregnable way only dreamed rooms can ever be. 

In the room facing north sits a young, brown-eyed girl with curls for hair and a beautiful golden gown for clothes. Ysbaella sits with her skirts spread around her and stares out her window, watching the world below move and go on and on and on. 

In the south-facing room, a young boy twirls a broken quill between too-short fingers. He sits by the window, but he doesn't look outside. He stares instead at an empty journal. Alain can't find any ink to write. 

The twins wait for dawn, for the dream to be over. Each of them alone.

Nem parei p'ra perguntar a direção

The door closes with a thud that spells finality.

Rafael slumps on his chair. His body is a distant thing now, beyond the grip of pain. Exhaustion closes in, and Rafael wants to heed its siren call, for it would be so easy. Close your eyes. Close his eyes and let go. Let go...

Distantly, he feels an ache on his side. It's not pain; he can't feel pain right now. Rafael looks down and sees the red expanding on his wraps. Blood. He was stabbed. His eyelids half-close. It would be so easy...

But Rafael twists his lips in a hateful sneer and clings to consciousness. Clings to life. To hell with them all. He's lived so far; he can cling on a little more. 

The would-be thief looks around the room — his cell. Dark and cold.

And completely deserted. 

Olá, Solidão

You raise your chin and face the mirror. 

Candlelight glows from behind, casting your silhouette in warm golden lines. Shadows play with your chin and jaw, your forehead, and the ridge of your nose. Your hair is wet, clinging to your neck, and your mouth is but a faint streak in the gloom. 

The whites of your eyes glint with the scarce glow as if they hold a light of their own. 

You stare at the mirror, but it's not your face you see. 

It is hers. 

Olá, Solidão

The bard puts the lyre aside, the last remnants of the song echoing like ghosts in the air. 

Lance unfolds his legs and rolls his shoulders, getting rid of the soreness of his muscles. His left hand is cramping, but he pays it little mind. The pain pales in comparison to the one pulsing from his back. 

He is proud of this song, but there is no applause. 

Lance looks around the small, narrow room with a sad smile. It is empty, of course. He plays for an audience of one: himself. 

- - - 

Song: Olã, Solidão by Os Quatro e Meia

[imintoomanyfandomscuzihaveadhd]

“Swimming lessons” (Aonung x Sully!Reader)

@ollieollie0-0 @jellyscreamer @hyperfixatedfandomer besties look at me coming out my comfort zone 😩

A/N:This I’m first time trying to write an actual story 😭 and yes I did write this with the Aonung aid roleplay bot. I’m pretty sure it’s gender neutral but it’s not proof read so take that with a grain of salt. You’d think after taking AP English I’d be a better writer 🙄

WARNING :fluff, teasing, mentioning of bullying, probably OOC Aonung cuz I’m not a good writer

WORD COUNT: 1,432 words

"I can't believe I'm asking you this but... can you help me practice swimming?" You utter avoiding looking at the taller Na’vi.

It’s pretty obvious to anyone with eyes that you and Aonung are not on the best of terms. Who could blame you after Aonung bullied your sister and fought with your brother before sending him to a death trap. However, father insists you make peace with the boy.

Aonung looks you up and down with a confused look. He looks back down at the knife he was carving before sighing.

“Do you really expect me to do that?” He asks, looking back up with a raised eyebrow. He’s clearly annoyed at having to deal with your request. He has a small smirk on his face that grows as you notice. “What do I get in return?”

You sigh, of course it wasn’t gonna be this easy.

“I don’t know, what do you want?” You say putting your hands in your hips. He scratches his chin, his eyebrows raised and his lips forming a small smile, as if he’s considering your request deeply.

“Well,” he takes a breath, and then his smile grows.

“Being nice wouldn’t kill you, I want you to say please.” Aonung crosses his arms before he scrunches his face, trying not to to burst into uncontrollable laughter, he knows he might be pushing his luck, but he’s curious how this will go.

You look at him in slight disbelief crossing your arms, “Will you help me practice swimming please.”

You can’t help but feel the smugness as he says, “Of course I’ll help you,” before he turns away to the reef and begins to swim.

“Follow me!”

You roll you eyes and follow him into the water. You both spend the next hour bickering over your “swimming lesson.”

Although you two constantly argue, Aonung still makes the lesson a decent one. He gives you tips how to kick your legs and move your arms. When you are good enough at that, he teaches you how to float, the correct form for diving properly. He even gives you a few pointers on how to hold your breath for long periods of time. Although a little snarky and passive aggressive, he’s good at his job.

You emerge from the water, after just swimming to the bottom of the ocean floor 20 feet below, smiling at you accomplishment before turning your attention to Aonung.

“Not bad for a tree hugger.” He teases but you can’t help but notice the smile on his face.

“Whatever Fish lips.” You laugh.

At this point eclipse is right around the corner, pinks and purples paint the clouds. He turns his attention to it and breaths it in.

“I love this time of the day,” he remarks before turning his attention to you “It’s really pretty, isn’t it?” He asks.

You’re slightly taken aback by his change in demeanor. “I- uh… yeah it is.”

He grins, “I haven’t really ever taken the time to enjoy the colors, but today I had some free time. It’s beautiful.” He says with a small smile before turning to you. “It matches your eyes” his voice is genuine, like he hasn’t spent the past hour teasing you. He means it, and you can tell. He looks away, not knowing what to say. Awkward silence fills the air. The two of you continue to stare at the water, watching the sunset until it slowly begins to become less vibrant.

Aonung eventually turns back to you, not entirely sure what to say. A smile sits on his face, almost to try to clear up the situation,

"H-hey, this is a one-time thing only. don't let me being nice to you get to your head." He states trying to bring back his tough persona. Although his tone is more serious, his eyes betray what he is really feeling just like the smile he is trying so hard to hide.

You chuckle, “sure thing Aonung.”

As the night continues to loom over, Aonung looks towards the night sky. “Do you want to hang out again?” Aonung asks, sounding surprised as the words come out of him. He shakes his head lightly when he says it, his cheeks flushing. Aonung is used to being alone; he doesn’t like meeting many people, and certainly doesn’t make new friends very often. But he is curious about you.

“I- sure.” You smile at him. “Just don’t tell anybody, I don’t want people to think I’m friends with you or anything.” You joke looking at him.

“Oh, because it’s so embarrassing to be friends with me?” He replies with a smirk, his tone clearly playful and sarcastic, his eyebrows raised in faux horror, although he has a small smile on his face, clearly enjoying your company, but not wanting to show it.

“Duh, I don’t want to be associated with your horrendous looking group of friends.” You giggle.

He scoffs, “Horrendous? Are you saying we are not a handsome bunch?” He chuckles his voice is full of fake confidence, his eyes dart to the side for a moment before resting on yours, looking at you body wading in the water. He pauses for a few seconds “You on the other hand…” he says with an eyebrow raised, smiling.

“Don’t you dare!” You gasp playfully. He moves closer to you and looks you deep in the eyes. “You are not horrendous, no. You are absolutely hideous.” He says with an absolutely straight face. He continues to look you in the eyes for another few seconds until he can’t hold his laughter anymore and he starts laughing. He covers his mouth with his hand as he continues to laugh. “Sorry, sorry.” He laughs, looking away. “Skxawng” You laugh, “If I’m hideous you’re revolting.” Teasing him back. “Well if I’m revolting then you must be atrocious.” He looks up to you again, a twinkle in his eyes, and he can’t help but smile lightly. “It’s good you can dish it back.” He remarks. “It’d be boring if I didn’t.” You say.

He looks out to the reef. “We better get back, it’s getting late.” He motions to you. “Race to the land?” “You’re on.” you say before diving underwater to get a head start. He looks at you with a smirk before diving into the water. You hear him surface a bit behind you before he swims ahead and you get a glimpse of his smirk before he speeds off.

Although you try your best, he ends up beating you to land. “Too slow.” He teases. You playfully shove his shoulder, “shut up.” His smirk grows. “You were never going to beat me.” He teases, “But at least you tried. I guess I can respect you a little,” he says with a small smile. “A little respect goes a long way.” He winks with a small chuckle. You roll your eyes before tilting your head to the side to squeeze the excess water out of your hair.

“You know if took those braids down your hair would dry a lot quicker.” He tells you referring to the Omatikaya hairstyle.

“Oh really, so you’ll do my hair next time I take it down?” You say sarcastically before shaking your head.

Aonung glances at you before bursting out laughing. “Sure,” he laughs sarcastically, “Maybe I will.” he laughs again, looking up at the night sky. You can tell he wants to make a move, but you can’t tell what it is. He looks down before turning to you. “So…..You uh… really wanna do this again sometime?” He adds, his blush growing. You giggle, “I already told you yes silly.” You say before walking closer to him. He looks to you as you approach.

A small smirk grows on his face, although his face is completely red. “Wait you weren’t joking?” He asks with a small frown. He raises an eyebrow, his look of uncertainty is adorable. You playfully and dramatically sigh “No Aonung, I wasn’t joking.” Grabbing his hand lightly, “I hate to admit it but I had a lot of fun hanging out with you.” He blushes again and smiles. “I hate to admit it, but I did to,” he smirks before letting go of your hand and looking up to the star. “Maybe it can be a weekly thing?” He suggests, his tone sounding playful, but you can tell his nervous of being rejected. You cup his cheek and direct his face to look at you before kissing him softly.

You smile as you pull away, “how about a daily thing?”

[roseofdarknessblog]

The Most Beautiful Season (Reiner Braun x Marleyan!Reader)

Word count: 3 930

Disclaimer: english is not my first language, I apologize in advance for any mistakes

Summary: You and Reiner are still trying to recover from your past mistakes. Now more than ever, because your little family of two will soon have a new addition.

This story can be read on its own or as a part of my little post-war series: House by the ocean

The Most Beautiful Season

Your favorite season was here once again – fall. You’ve loved it since you were little and even after so many years, you were always the most excited, when nature started to change and fall was just around the corner. Yes, the hot summer weather was nice, mainly in your new home on the coastline, but you couldn’t wait for fall to finally arrive and show you, just how beautiful your new home could get.

Marley was always beautiful this time of the year. Trees in the nearby forest just outside Liberio started to change colors midway through September and by the end of the month, the majority of the forest was almost unrecognizable. Wandering around there, collecting colorful leaves just for fun, or reading at the bank of the river was like a dream come true.

However, this wasn’t Marley and the forest you used to know. That was long gone and never coming back to see another fall season again. Your old home was completely destroyed and the people you once used to know – all of your old friends and neighbors – were dead. Everything from your childhood only existed in your memories now.

And even after almost a year, it was still hard to come to terms with. All of what happened still felt surreal, just like a nightmare, which is going to end soon. But no. There was no waking up from reality.

„You’re getting pretty good at this,“ you said with a smile, looking over your shoulder. Reiner was standing there, his fingers more easily than ever braiding your hair. It got pretty long over the last few months. „Who knows, maybe you’ll need this skill in the near future.“

„I don’t think it would be this easy with short hair. There won’t be much to work with,“ he said, concentrating on every move of his fingers. Although he was getting better and better at braiding your hair and could do a couple of different styles now, he still had a lot to learn. Better said, he wanted to learn since doing this helped him relax. And it was a nice way to spend time together, you had to admit that. „But if I’ll have the opportunity, I’ll definitely try it.“

„Well, her hair is not going to be short forever.“

„Yeah, I know that. But there is still a pretty big chance it’s going to be a he.“

You smiled and dipped your paintbrush into the prettiest shade of pink you’ve ever mixed together. „Would you like that more? If we had a son?“

„It doesn’t matter, honey. All I want is for you both to be okay. That will make me perfectly happy.“

You could feel him smile, as he kissed you behind your left ear. One of his hands let go of your hair for a second, gently caressing your belly. It was still pretty small and if you put on a baggier piece of clothing, it was easy to hide it. But not so much in the long light-brown dress you were wearing at that moment. It hugged your body in all the right places, now your growing belly including. And Reiner loved that – seeing that your love created a new life, that would be born into a completely different world than in which the two of you grew up.

„Pieck is thinking about moving over here. I got her letter this morning,“ Reiner said while he continued to braid your hair and simultaneously watch as you paint the scenery in front of your eyes – the view of the cliffs and ocean from your garden. They were the prettiest during sunsets, especially ones as beautiful as the one that was happening right at that moment. „What do you think about it?“

„It would be lovely to have her close by, she’s always been really nice to me. And maybe the seaside would help her dad’s medical condition as well.“

„He got some new medicine recently and is doing much better now.“

„I’m glad to hear that, really.“

You got to know the Warrior’s parents and many more Eldians on the train, that took you from Liberio to Fort Salta. As you were all running from the Rumbling, you had the perfect chance to get to know the people you were supposed to hate. And Mr. Finger was one of them. Even during the end of the world, all he was thinking about was his only daughter.

During that time, it was probably the same for your own father. When Mr. Leonhart with some other Eldians took him, now a former Marleyan soldier, captive and he bargained with them, to let you come with them as well. Back then he still loved you. Back then... back then he wasn’t disappointed that you fell in love with an Eldian.

„Speaking of fathers...“ Reiner said, probably feeling how you tensed up.

„I’m trying not to think about it.“

„I heard you cry last night and in the morning as well.“ You nodded, not even trying to deny how much this whole situation still hurt you.

Many months went by without you seeing your father – your only living parent. And when you finally gathered up the courage to return to Marley, to the place where he lived now, he didn’t even bother to let you inside the house. You stayed there for almost a week, trying over and over again every single day multiple times. But your father didn’t change his mind. For him, you were a lost cause and the biggest disappointment of his life. All of that because you chose to live a happy life with Reiner.

And despite that, you still tried. Over and over again. You still wrote him a letter and sent it every single week. Sometimes there were many things you wanted to tell him, and sometimes you didn’t really have anything interesting to write about. But you still thought of some things and sent at least a couple of lines. Every letter ended the same way – you reminded him how much you still loved him and how much you missed seeing him.

„I know it still hurts and you can’t imagine how sorry I am, that your father is acting like this. But I don’t want you stressing yourself out because of him. Not now and not ever.“

You smiled for yourself, while Reiner finished braiding your hair. His arms immediately wrapped around your waist, his palms resting on your stomach. He was ecstatic when you told him about your pregnancy right after you came back from Marley. You knew about the baby even before that but didn’t want to say anything, as you didn’t want Reiner to come with you. And if he knew, that you were carrying his child, he would never let you go alone.

The baby wasn’t planned. At least not right now. But none of you tried to prevent a possible pregnancy by all means. You simply let that part of your life be, leaving all in the hands of fate. You tried to believe, that everything was just as it was supposed to be. For some reason, you were meant to get pregnant right now. Maybe that’s why you felt so much peace and joy.

Yes, becoming parents sounded pretty scary, mainly because both you and Reiner were still slowly healing and adjusting to your new life. Knowing, that you’ll soon be a family of three, seemed to help you as well. Both of you were trying your best every single day so that everything will be more than perfect for the day your baby makes the grand entrance into this world.

Reiner was worried about becoming a father, of course, he was. He never really knew his own dad, which made him second-guess himself in many things. Even now, months before your due date and his first-ever chance to hold his firstborn child. But you were more than sure, that he would do great.

„I was thinking about writing him again and telling him about the baby. It’s not like I have anything to lose.“

„Did you want to tell him, when you were in Marley?“

You shrugged, putting your brush down. The sky above your head was stunning, all you could see were the most beautiful shades of pink and gold. You didn’t feel like painting anymore today. Even though the weather was still very nice and warm during the day, when the sun set, it started to get cold pretty soon.

„It’s not like he would be excited like your mom.“

„Even I was in shock over her reaction,“ Reiner admitted, carefully turning you around in his embrace and kissing your forehead gently. „I think she’ll enjoy being a grandma.“

Your relationship with Karina was... still developing. At first, she too was against you and Reiner being together. But she very quickly changed her mind, when she saw how happy you made her son. After the two of you moved away from Marley, she came to visit twice before deciding that living near you would be a great idea. After finding a small apartment in the heart of the town, she happily left Marley behind as well. Since then, she came over to your cottage at the coastline at least once a week and tried to mend her strained relationship with you and Reiner as well.

„What is it?“ you asked, cupping his cheeks. Something was bothering him, and you hated to see that.

„Nothing, I just... I just wish that we could stop worrying about our parents.“

„Not to sound negative, but I don’t think we’ll be able to do that.“

Reiner loved his mother, but their relationship was complicated. Karina made a lot of mistakes while raising her son, mainly thinking about herself and her wish of becoming an honorary Marleyan. She used her son for her own good while feeding Reiner lies after lies. She very well knew, that his father, a Marleyan, would never come home to them and they would never live as a happy family. But she kept convincing him, that when he becomes a Warrior, his dad will finally love him.

„I just hope we won’t make the same mistakes they did while raising us.“

„We won’t,“ you reassured him, gently brushing your lips over his mouth. „We’ll make some new ones,“ you added, making Reiner smile. Seeing him in a mood like this was something very precious to you. „And that’s okay. I don’t think anybody knows how to be a perfect parent. We’ll figure everything out.“

„Well, it’s not like we’ll be completely clueless. We successfully raised six ducklings without any of them dying or running away.“

Both of you lovingly looked over to the part of your garden, which was reserved for the ducks you got from a nearby farm when they were still tiny little babies. They were free to roam the garden most of the time, but sometimes it was nice to put them behind a fence and not worry about them always getting in your way. Mainly, when Reiner was home, as they loved to follow him around since they were tiny.

Reiner helped you put away your painting stuff before it got dark, and then both of you said good night to your ducks. You did it every single evening, making it an unskippable part of your night routine. After that, Reiner helped you make dinner, which he had to eat alone in the end. Your nausea was still coming and going, even now during the second trimester. One minute you were fine and enjoying your pregnancy, the other you felt like dying from all the symptoms.

„I wish I could do something to help you feel better,“ Reiner said when he finally came out of the shower and slipped into bed beside you.

„It’s fine, don’t worry,“ you assured him with an exhausted smile. „I just hoped that these symptoms would go away, but I still feel awful most of the time.“

„But you still have that beautiful pregnancy glow.“

You smiled, cuddling up to Reiner and making yourself comfortable in his arms. Even if you spent the entire day together, this was your favorite time. Being so close to him and spending the last couple of minutes or hours before sleeping just peacefully talking and holding onto each other. Sweet everyday moments like this from your domestic life were your most treasured ones. They were everything you dreamed about just a year ago. And now you had the chance to enjoy them whenever you wanted.

„I have the next few days off work, so we can spend time together. If you’ll feel up to it, we can walk around a little. I know how much you like fall nature.“

„I keep thinking about the forest outside Liberio. It used to be so pretty this time of the year. I loved spending time there.“

„Gabi loved wondering alongside the river. Even if she wasn’t allowed to go there very often.“

As he said those words a sad realization came down on you. Of course, that life back in Liberio wasn’t the same for all of you. While you had all the freedom you wanted, Reiner, his family, and friends were forced to live by very different rules. Leaving the internment zone wasn’t easy for everyone. All Eldians needed special permission and not everyone was able to get it.

„Hey, what’s wrong? Did I say something?“ Reiner asked worriedly when he saw the smile from your face vanish and your eyes grow sad.  

„No, I just... keep forgetting how differently we grew up. The things I took for granted were never like that for you or Gabi.“

With an almost sad smile, Reiner kissed the top of your head. „No need to be sad about that. We can’t change it now.“

„I know, but sometimes... sometimes I can’t help but think about how wrong I was for most of my life. I never questioned anything Marley taught me about your people, just hated your kind like everybody around me. Without realizing, that all of you have nothing to do with the actions of your ancestors. I... I wanted all of you gone, so we won’t have to fear your kind ever again.“

„I think we can both agree, that we had no other choice back then. We simply had to believe everything our parents, teachers, and the military were telling us. We didn’t know any better, we were just kids who grew up in a hate-driven environment.“

„And where did that get us? How many people lost their lives because of it?“

You didn’t know, exactly how many people may have lost their lives during the Rumbling. And maybe it was for the best. Knowing about all that damage in detail would do nothing, only make you feel even worse.

„Why are you thinking about it now?“

„Because...“ You took a deep breath, your right hand coming to rest on your belly. „We’ll soon be parents as well. We’ll have our own child and it’s going to be our responsibility to raise them into a good and proper human being. And when I look back at how we were raised...“

„I thought we already discussed this. We won’t make the same mistakes as our parents. Simply because we want our child to have a better life.“

You nodded, lifting your head from Reiner’s chest. It was obvious, that he was sometimes thinking about similar things. After all, both of you were still learning and changing with every passing day. And now, with you being pregnant, both you and Reiner seemed to think about the past even more. Talking about all of it was necessary but painful nonetheless.

And now even more than ever.

Now, just a few months before your baby will be born.

„I’ll do everything for them, Y/N. I’ll love them more than you can even imagine. More than both of our parents loved either of us.“ His hand came to rest over yours which was still on your belly, his lips pressing against your mouth in a sweet reassuring kiss.

„I know you will, Reiner,“ you whispered still just a few inches from his mouth.  

„You can count on me in everything, you know that, right? I promise to never leave you or the baby. And I promise to give you everything you’ll need.“

You smiled and leaned closer for another kiss, cupping his cheek with your free hand. „You don’t have to promise me anything. I never doubted you. Not for a single second.“

Him feeling insecure was something you were expecting. That’s why you tried your hardest every single day, to let him know that you believe in him. You had no reason to doubt him or his words. Reiner loved you and did his absolute best for you and the baby from the very second you told him about your pregnancy.

He was fussing around you every chance he got, some days not letting you do absolutely anything, reminding you that you need to rest as much as possible. Sometimes it was annoying, but you knew Reiner only meant well. This was simply his way of showing you how much he cared – taking as much as he could upon himself, so you don’t have to lift a finger.

There still were many things you wanted and needed to talk about. But all of them could wait. With one last sweet kiss, you rested your head on Reiner’s chest again and closed your eyes. It was already pretty late and you could tell, Reiner was just as exhausted as you.

That’s why you hoped for a quiet and peaceful night.

But all of your hopes were shattered when dreams about your father woke you up multiple times. The last one made you feel such pain and discomfort, that you started crying almost immediately after opening your eyes. Not wanting to wake Reiner up, you carefully got up and left your shared bedroom.

Sobbing quietly, you sat down at the dining table and buried your face into your hands. Whatever you did, you couldn’t stop being like this. You couldn’t stop thinking and worrying about him. If your heart could take such pain, you would be standing at his door every single day and waiting for him to finally let you in and have a talk with you. But that wasn’t an option, definitely not now. You had to think of your unborn baby... and yourself too. It wouldn’t help anyone if you physically and emotionally destroyed yourself for someone, who simply didn’t care.

Even if that person raised you and loved you for so many years.

But just until...

„EREN!“

You immediately jumped to your feet, when Reiner’s scream echoed through the entire house. With a pounding heart, you hurried back to the bedroom. Reiner was already sitting at the edge of the bed, too busy trying to catch his breath to notice you standing at the door. His pillow was laying on the floor, while the bedsheets were tossed all over the bed.

Without saying anything, you walked over to the bed and knelt down in front of him, reaching for his hands. You ran your thumbs over his knuckles, before pulling his hands closer and gently kissing them.

When Eren’s name was mentioned this late during the night, it was obvious, that none of you would get any proper rest. Not when Reiner woke up screaming, crying, and covered in a cold sweat, barely able to catch his breath.

„It’s fine, you’re okay, Reiner,“ you said quietly and reached for his face. Carefully, you grabbed his chin and made him look right at you. Seeing tears building up in his honey-gold eyes shattered your heart probably for the millionth time. „It was just a nightmare. You know he’s gone now.“

Even if you never knew the Eren he met back at Paradis, during his years at the military academy, and only knew that version of him, which tried to destroy the world, you tried not to hate him. You didn’t know and couldn’t fully understand what that boy went through and why exactly he did what he did. But during times like this, when you saw how Reiner still suffered because of all that... you let hate and anger take over you. And it always took you some time to remind yourself, that hate was precisely what brought you here. Into this new world, which almost didn’t even get the chance to exist.

„Everything that happened... it was my fault.“ He was so sure that what he was saying was the only and ultimate truth. Maybe that was the most painful thing for you. Him being too hard on himself over every single thing that went wrong.

Thinking about what he said, you shook your head. „We’ve talked about this many times and you know, that it’s not true. It simply... it had to happen.“

„But if it wasn’t for me...“

„It was never just you, Reiner.“ You wiped away his tears, smiling when he slipped down from the bed and sat down next to you. One of his strong arms wrapped around your shoulders, while the other caressed your belly. „We both love you so, so, so much,“ you assured him, kissing his cheek.

Letting him cry and grieve was important from the very start. There was nothing bad about it. Not after all of what he went through. Just as he accepted your tears, when you felt sad because of your father, you accepted all of the things which brought tears to his eyes.

Moments like this were the hardest and most painful when it came to healing. And there was simply no way around them. Both of you had to go straight through and feel all that pain many more times before you were finally ready to let go.

„Your eyes are puffy, were you crying?“ he asked after a minute of silence, both of you cuddled up to each other, while still sitting on the hard wooden floors.

You didn’t want to talk about it, so you simply shook your head and buried your face into his shoulder. He was still shaking slightly when you pressed your lips against his neck and wrapped your arm around his body.

„I love you,“ Reiner said, pulling you closer and making you sit in his lap. He needed to feel you as close as possible, to be sure he was back in reality now. „Guess these sleepless nights are good for something, don’t you think?“

„What exactly are they good for?“ you asked teasingly, hugging him around the neck and resting your forehead against his.

His arms were wrapped around your waist, making sure to be as gentle with you as possible. He was always like this, but since you told him about the baby, he sometimes treated you as if you were made of glass. Not to mention all the love you could see in his eyes every single time he looked at you.  

„We’ll be used to waking up and not getting much sleep once the baby is here.“

What a bittersweet moment that was. When Reiner’s smile and your laugh once again turned into tears full of unimaginable pain and regrets. These feelings never seemed to go away. They kept sticking around, looking over your shoulder, and making sure you don’t take life lightly and don’t laugh too much and too sincerely.

Well... at least for now.

[catcze]

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

「 ### : 」 gn reader, reunions, established relationship, fluff, Beidou lifts you up and spins you around at one point.

Reposed from my secondary blog !!

You’ve been counting. Every second, every minute, every hour. Too long since you’ve last seen her, since you’ve watched her sail away from the port. Each wave that crashes against the docks of Liyue harbor easily reminds you of Beidou and makes your heart ache. Salt and seawater only remind you of her; of her touch, of her voice. Of her lips, that taste of whatever drink she’s had last. A sigh escapes you. Wistful, is all you can think to describe yourself. Hopeful, maybe.

The route you take through Guyun stone forest is a familiar path, one you could navigate in your sleep. The sun is still rising for the day when you reach the entrance of the cave and head in. Here, after a brief walk, is a small cliff that juts out to face the ocean that gives you the perfect view of the horizon (and of the Alcor, should she be sailing your way.) The flora and the crystal flies that hang in the air give the place an etherial energy. Adventurers come by to challenge the nearby domain, so they keep monsters away, though they hardly ever bother you. 

In the past, when you grow restless for Beidou’s return, you find yourself coming here. It’s easy to pass time, to take a breath of fresh air, and to hope you’d see the familiar prow in the distance. 

Like most other days, time passes for you quickly in your little hideaway. You take out what you’ve brought to kill time with today: a pen and paper that you sketch the crystal flies with, a book, and some work that you decided you needed a change of scenery to complete; small things that can hold your attention enough to use up your energy over time. 

It’s after you polish off the lunch you’ve brought for yourself that your eyes begin to droop. All the anticipation’s got you more tired than you first realized, you figure around a yawn. When you gaze out back into the sea, the wind has grown slow and quiet, and the only thing you can see on the horizon is the faint silhouette of Inazuma in the distance.

“Not today, then,” you say to yourself in a quiet murmur, pushing the disappointment to the back of your mind. Not much else to really do in that case— oh well, you can always take a quick nap and head back for the harbor, you decide, pushing down the sliver of disappointment.

Nodding in agreement to yourself, you get as comfy as you could on the cool, mossy ground. With your head resting on your knapsack as a makeshift pillow, you let yourself be lulled to sleep by the rhythmic chorus of the waves, and you’re lost to sleep in mere minutes.

When you wake up, you immediately know you’ve overslept. Golden light leaks in to the cave from the sea, unlike the bright midday sun from earlier, painting the stony walls in a pretty orange and yellow mural. You sit up, grimacing and check around you for your things and notice how late it’s gotten. The winds have picked up much more over the course of your nap, too, you notice, still trying to shake out the post-sleep fuzz from your head.

You curse, springing to you feet with such urgency that black spots flash in your vision for a quick second and you have to take a moment to regain your balance.

With clumsy fingers you shrug your bag back on after making sure everything’s accounted for, then sigh, preparing to make your way back—

When a sharp, distant whistle interrupts your train of thought.

You react first, brow furrowing in annoyance as you whip around to the source of the sound. The light of the sunset catches in your eyes, making you wince. It takes a few seconds of blinking to clear it, but when it does, your eyes are drawn to the big, big ship anchored some ways off of the shore, and your breath hitches. 

For a second, you think you might be asleep still, might be dreaming up the crash of the waves against the wooden hull and the cawing of the gulls perched on the rails. You blink again and again and again, not believing your own eyes.

Her sails are a familiar red and gold. The dragon figurehead on her prow gleams in the sun, reflecting the golden hour light. It looks none the worse for wear, you think with relief. No charring from lightning blots, no new holes from enemy canons. All safe, all in one piece.

Elation fills you as you take in the sight of her, a smile growing on you. On the deck, the sailor are all busy, heaving cargo and exchanging words, but your eyes are drawn to only one person, who’s already focused on you.

Beidou’s forearms are braced on the balustrade, one hand raised in a wave when you catch sight of her. It’s like time stands still— the rush of the waves and the whisper in the wind all falls to background noise when you see her. She leans against her ship with all the confidence in the world, but you can see the springs that coil under her skin, even from so far away. You can read the tension in her limbs from here, how she wants nothing more but to jump from her ship and go to you, swimming against the tides if she must.

You train your gaze on her. Taking her in. Taking in how nothing is separating you two but some water, and not even a mile’s worth of it. In your chest, your heart thrums faster, skin tingling with the urge to reach out and close the distance.

Beidou says something, but her voice doesn’t carry on the wind as well as her whistle had. It’s impossible to hear her, but then she gestures with a pointed thumb and a wide grin to her left, near the shore, where the water mixes in with the sand of Guyun, and where the cranes like to gather to pick at fish and crabs. Without even thinking, just driven on by the beat of your heart, you nod.

Beidou turns around, you presume to yell at her crew to get her a rowboat, and you take off running. Past the crystal flies, past the domain. Your legs burn from exertion and you’re not even sure if you’re breathing right as you navigate out and back onto the beach. And yet, the smile you wear is ecstatic, a happy warmth on your cheeks. You feel like bursting from your seams, the joy and elation warming your blood making you want to yell, to shout, to whoop for joy. 

Your feet skid in the sand when you finally get out and make a sharp turn to the beach. This is where she meets you— where she always meets you, whenever she comes back. Overhead, flecks of dark blue and purple have appeared in the sky, contesting the bright orange hue of the setting sun that’s begun to kiss the surface of the ocean. In the distance, you can see Beidou in her rowboat, steadily making her way closer to you. The sight of her so close sends you into a tizzy, bunching up your stomach and stealing any remaining breath from your lungs. You laugh, shucking off your shoes and tossing your bag somewhere into the sand. The beach is coarse and warm under your bare feet, still fresh from their bath in the sun’s rays. Hastily, you wade into the ocean, carving your way through the water with a splash as you go. 

So close— She’s so close!

“Beidou!” You yell once she’s within earshot. You continue wading through the shallows to meet her, the water up to your knees already. She waves, that smile of hers growing brighter the closer you get.

As impatient as you, she disembarks from the small boat, jumping into the water with a great splash!, uncaring of how her boots and the tail of her outfit are probably soaked. She too cuts through the water, eager to meet you again.

Beidou falls into your open, waiting arms, her own wrapping around you as she buries her nose into your neck. It’s a collision that feels so right, feels so damn familiar, like two puzzle pieces coming together. You breath in the scent of wood and sea from her hair, tightening your arms around her middle. 

“Hey,” Beidou says, breathless, and you melt.

The two of you take a second to breathe in each other’s presence. Beidou’s warmth chases away the longing you had felt in a mere instant. You hold her against you, and she holds you against her, both of you heedless of the water and waves that lap at your legs.

You feel Beidou’s grin on your neck before she pulls away to look you in the eye. Her gaze flits over your face, as if memorizing the sight that she had missed on the open ocean. You press a kiss to her forehead, then her nose, then her lips, where you let the touch linger for a second longer. It’s such a simple gesture, but it has Beidou’s eyes fluttering shut easily. You almost laugh at how relaxed her expression becomes in your arms, when you feel her hands relocate and grip at your sides. There’s a split second for you to catch how her arms flex in anticipation before you’re easily being lifted up. Nothing on Beidou’s face betrays any sort of struggle— if anything, her expression lights up even more. She spins you around in a circle, the wind whipping at the side of your face and drawing happy laughter from both you and her. When you’ve had your fun she slows, gently easing you down until your forehead is pressed against hers, and her breath is mingling with yours.

One of your hands comes up to trace the side of her face, and Beidou easily leans into the touch. “I missed you,” you say, voice quiet.

“I’m sorry I made you wait so long.” Her hand cups yours, holding it in place as she leans into your touch. You laugh at the half-apologetic, half-mischievous look she shoots you, her red eyes gleaming in the setting sun. Powerless to how she holds you, how she loves you, you can only shake your head and lean in for another kiss, your breath ghosting against her lips. 

“You say that like I wouldn’t wait forever for you.”

[ochrearia]

Synesthesia info for the RGB trio

So about that whole synesthesia personality shit I was yapping about in part 8 end notes. I figured it out for BF, GF, and Pico. Or more or less how I interpret their personalities to be. So here's a fat infodump about this:

GFCherry: "Sweetest Rain" by Abilene. Soul and self like a divine dance of kindness and playfulness. She hates thunderstorms but the dewdrops on plants after a morning's rain resonates with her. There's always an air of mysticism to her because of, well, demon. But unlike her heritage she's nothing but kind. People get so hung up on just how sweet she is, how is that even possible? It's easy to get lost in her sound, surrounding you like a warm blanket. She radiates safety and calmness while still being strong in herself. There's just enough mischief in the way she sounds as well to make it known as an important part. For her, she exists in deep purple and gold like a stunning sunset, with some silver as well. She's got shapes like a downpour of rain on a window, vines twisting and curling too.

Pico: "Snöfall" by A Cerulean State. A lot of Pico's whole thing is being kinda cut off and hardened by his past experiences, and it makes him seem kinda cold and lonely. But he's got the strongest sense of loyalty out there, not afraid to make hard choices, and strong. But he's also easy to fluster and shy about affection even when he really wants it. Dude's just gone through a lot and deserves to be happy even if he struggles to understand that. A lot of what he does is to protect himself, and also let loose the anger he has at the world that fucked him over. So like... kind of a deep space blue and jade green with little HINTS of gray. Dude kinda swirls around with solid shapes and stuff. Idk how to properly explain this one lol but it's very him

BFKeith: "nuuk winter" by Emaloo. Because even though someone can be overly energetic and chaotic, it doesn't necessarily translate into how they sound. Make no mistake, he is both of those things, and also a dumbass, but it honestly just translates into a positive vibe instead. Something about him just pulls everyone in whether they accept it or hate his guts. He loves hard and is a bit naive at times, but there's fun in that. Confident in what he fights for is right. A very pastel magenta, something in-between a peach and silver color, and that one specific deep ocean blue-green you KNOW WHAT IM TALKING ABOUT. Kinda wavy shapes. Orbital sort of. Dude is just a good vibes atmosphere.

I don't expect any of this to make much sense I'm bad at putting it into words which is a curse of synesthesia because a lot of the time you can't fully explain wtf ur seeing. especially with this type of it. ILL PAINT THESE I REALLY WANT TO I NEED TO PAINT THEM BEFORE I DO THE ONESHOT OF THIS SO PEOPLE CAN HAVE AN ACTUAL VISION OF WHAT IM SAYING

[vincentiswatching]

I wrote this Our Flag Means Death song in April 2022 and I never posted the full version anywhere. Now that the second season of OFMD is coming out as we speak, I wanted to share it with you. I love this show with all my heart and I hope you like this little love song I wrote for Ed and Stede:

You make me Happy

I sailed away without a plan,

they say there's monsters in the sea;

You pointed at yourself and said:

“The monster is me”

I sailed away to hold your hand.

Your oceans so much deeper than -

anything I've seen

but I don't think monsters are real.

You’re not despicable.

Went through unthinkable hells

and guess what; I'm still glad I met you.

You deserve the world,

You deserve rest too.

Keep holding on -

Please let me hold on to you.

You're the X on the map,

You're a book that's well kept,

You're a glass marmalade,

You're a tea, freshly made;

7 sugars no less

with a smile to obsess

over mist on the sea

and your light makes me see -

You are painted in colours,

too divine to understand,

I'm the luckiest lover

when you reach for my hand.

You're a poem that's sweet;

When the sun and moon meet

bathed in orange;

you wear fine things like a melody.

You’re more than your beard,

You’re more than your legacy,

You’re kind and you're good,

You're incredibly, terribly,

wonderful.

You are in control;

If you'd have me,

Could I make you happy?

You sailed away without a plan,

they said there's monsters in the sea;

You pointed at yourself and said:

“The monster is me”

You sailed away to hold my hand.

Your love runs so much deeper than -

anything I've seen.

Wasn't convinced that you were real.

You're not unlovable;

Sometimes insufferable, true,

guess what it's stupidly easy to love you.

You deserve the world,

You deserve adventure too.

keep holding on -

I think I'll hold on to you.

You're the X on the map,

You're a book that's well kept,

You're a glass marmalade,

You're a tea, freshly made;

7 sugars no less

with a smile to obsess

over mist on the sea

and your light makes me see -

Your mind is a mystery

I could never understand.

You're a lunatic and crazy

and I'd love to hold your hand.

You're endearing and weird,

lavender and teal

in the sunset;

Your smile makes the monster disappear.

You are more than your past,

You're more than your fears,

You are kind and you're brave,

You're amazingly, basically

Everything.

Where I want to be and when

if you'd have me,

Could I make you happy?

You're the X on the map,

You're a book that's well kept,

You're a glass marmalade,

You're a tea, freshly made;

7 sugars no less

with a smile to obsess

over mist on the sea

and your light makes me see -

A fuckery well planned

to fool a ship of hundred men;

Finest clothes made out of silk

and the dollop of milk

in my tea -

You're my safe,

You're my free;

a breakfast in the lookout

and a library at sea.

I'd give up my life,

leave my kids, leave my wife,

leave my ship and my crew

for this one life with you.

I'd sail away without a plan

For this insane and loving man;

I'd fight the Kraken and the tides

if it means holding you one more night.

You are more than your title,

You’re more than your name,

You’re kind and you're brave,

You're incredibly, terribly good and inherently

Wonderful.

If you'd have me;

Could I make you happy?

[utapri-translations-uuuu]

LOVE APPROACH Day 3. by Nagi - Translation

Please do not repost/retranslate without permission.

Day 3

Found you! As I thought, you were on the rooftop.

Who do you think Nagi is? No matter how big this mansion is, it’s easy enough to find out where you are.

Evidence #1: After lunch yesterday you were looking at the painting on the entrance.

It’s a replica of a famous impressionist work that features a beautiful sunset over the ocean.

Evidence #2: Yesterday it was raining, but today the weather is very nice.

That is to say, the thing you would most likely do this evening would be to watch the sunset, right?

(giggles)

Amazing, isn't it? As expected of Nagi!

But if you look a little closer at something like this, you’ll realize it right away. It’s way too simple to be able to call it a deduction, isn’t it?

(giggles)

What am I doing here? What should I do when you ask me something like that?

Am I allowed to say that I had no particular reason and just came to meet you?

(giggles)

I can clearly see you’re troubled. If I don’t keep an eye on you, I’ll get worried.

Fine, I’ll tell you the real reason.

I couldn’t help but want to meet you, that’s why I came here.

How do you feel about Nagi?

Were you thinking “I want to meet him”, like me?

Are you listening properly?

It would never be normal for me to be thinking about one person this much. It’s like a miracle!

So please think carefully. Not just about your own feelings now, but of me too, okay?

Hey, hold out your little finger.

(pinky swears)

It’s a promise! There’s lots of time, so stick to what you decide.

However, if you can’t grasp your feelings properly, leave it to Nagi.

There’s no mystery that I can’t solve. Including love.

What is true love? How do you feel when you fall in love? I know it all, because I have you.

Next ⇒ LOVE AFFAIR with Nagi

[localcryptidsteg]

Dropping an entire fic chapter by chapter on tumblr because I dont have an ao3 account? Dont mind if I do!

Chapter 1- Flower Fruit Mountain

The little fishing boat rocked gently in the waters as it approached the island. Mk gazed warily over the side. The ocean had gone from the expected sea green to a sickly magenta the closer they got. There seemed to be an abundance of plantlife growing on the surface the closer they got to shore, but... it all looked sick. Wrong. Looking closer the spirit guide realized it wasn't growing at all; it was dead matter that had floated to the surface, and something else entirely was feeding off it.

“Hey, uh, Mei? You're sure this is waterproof, right?” He questioned his companion nervously. The woman steering the ship turned to acknowledge him, grinning fondly.

“Relax, Mk! The boat's fine! Just... maybe don't lean too far over the side.” She turned her gaze back to the island. She could see what appeared to be a dilapidated dock jutting out into the water from the shore. Carefully she turned the rudder to bring them in closer.

It wasn't much longer until they arrived. After anchoring the boat and tying it to the sturdiest thing she could find, Mei dusted her hands and set them on her hips. Mk was busy poking around the dock.

Old as the dock seemed, everything lay exactly as it had been the last time it was used. A snapshot in time, rotting away. Right down to the hull of a ship poking out of the water, faded blue paint still visible.

“This is... eerie.” The boy frowned, clutching his staff a bit closer, protectively. “Isn't this place supposed to be super haunted? I thought for sure we'd run into something as soon as we reached shore.”

Mei shrugged. “Guess they don't have a dedicated welcome committee? Come on, Mk! Stop worrying. The sooner we find the source of the rot and lay it to rest, the sooner we can get out of here! Piece of cake!” She wouldn't admit it, but the dragon girl was a bit unnerved by how quiet it was, herself.

Before them, across the yawning stretch of beach, sprawled a dense jungle. Beyond that, in the center of the Island, a mountain loomed far over the treetops. Flower Fruit Mountain, except there didn't seem to be and flowers or fruit left alive.

Mk took a deep breath and drew himself taller, psyching himself up. “Ok. Yeah! We can do this! Easy! Stop the rot, get back home!”

As the two reached the groundcover, it seemed as if the jungle stretched and opened a way for them. Almost welcoming. Almost, if it weren't for the pulsing rot that seemed to cling to near any surface it could. The whole island was a deadzone. And the surrounding islands would be too, soon, if it wasn't addressed. That was why they had come, after all.

The further in the little team hiked, the worse it got. But after an hour of walking, doing what they could to avoid poisoned ground, the silent forest erupted in the sounds of a fight. Mk looked over at Mei, who nodded knowingly. This could be what they were hunting for, or at least part of it.

They picked up the pace, trying to catch up to whatever it was before the scuffle ended.

Entering a clearing of broken trees, they came upon two figures locked in battle - one a deep, sunset purple hue, and the other gold as the sun. Both wore masks, and both seemed to have the same build, though it was difficult to tell with the speed they were moving. Deep gouges scored the earth and rocks around them, some as old as the docks themselves, some much, much newer.

Mk moved to intervene, but Mei swiftly moved an arm across his chest. “Wait. Just watch for now, we can't do anything for them yet. The boy sighed and nodded.

And so they observed the fight. The combatants seemed evenly matched at first, but it soon became apparent the sunset figure had the upper hand. They flung the other around like a ragdoll with brutal ease, and it seemed all the gold figure's energy was focused on just keeping them at bay. Or at least, that's what Mei thought at first but... the gold one really wasn't fighting back at all, were they?

Eventually, the sunny figure paused to catch their breath. “Time out! Time out!” He called, dodging out of the way again. Sunset hit a treetrunk behind him, toppling it and hissing in pain. Mk yelped as it landed just shy of he and Mei's hiding spot.

Both fighters startled, turning to look at the spirit guides. Mk waved sheepishly, chuckling. “Heeeeyy... hi.”

The two spirits seemed to share a look. Now that they were standing still, it was easier to tell what they were. Two monkey demons, or at least the shades of them, blinked owlishly out of their mirrored masks at the human and the dragon girl.

The first was dark, with long fur that seemed to have a life of its own, and dressed in long, elegant robes that seemed ill-fit for combat despite the earlier prowess he'd shown. One of his arms was all but consumed by corruption, though it didn't particularly seem to bother him. That was often the case with corrupted spirits.

The second, a golden-orange hue, seemed far less put together. His fur was wild and his tattered, dust-covered clothes were more suited to traveling than what his counterpart wore. He seemed largely unaffected by corruption, oddly enough. Then again, some spirits were just resistant to it. It was likely he was tethered here by something other than regret and rage, then.

Seeing that they weren't moving to attack, Mk straightened up and continued with a bit more confidence. “Hello, spirits! I'm Mk, and this is my partner, Mei! We were sent here because the corruption from this island is uh... spreading! Very fast!” He coughed, pausing. “We're here to help!”

The purple monkey immediately grew guarded, though he stepped forward, and the gold one kicked awkwardly at the ground allowing him to speak for them both. “Mk, you said? Full offense, kid, but better than you have tried and failed. Just leave now. This doesn't concern you.” his tail flicked in irritation behind him, long, dark fur sweeping away leaves and debris without seeming to pick any up. And just as soon as he'd spoken his piece, he vanished, making it more than apparent he was done talking.

The gold spirit made a noise of derision. “As much as I hate to agree with anything he says... it's not safe here for the living. He's right. Turn back while you can. Leave the dead to the dead, bud.” Unlike the other, he lingered.

“I can lead you two back out of the jungle. But please, don't return. There are other ways to get rid of the corruption.”

Mei sighed in frustration, stepping in front of a crestfallen Mk. “Yeah, that's not how this is gonna work.” She smirked, crossing her arms. “You're stuck with us. We came here to do a job, and we aren't leaving until it's done!”

The remaining monkey demon grumbled under his breath. “Fine! Fine. Don't say I didn't warn you! Let the record show when you die out here, I tried to tell you and you're not allowed to haunt me!” he threw his hands in the air, exasperated, and turned to walk away. He reached the edge of the clearing and paused expectantly, turning to check behind them.

“Well? Are you coming or not? You cant just stay here.”

Mei looked quizzically at Mk. He shrugged back.

“HURRY UP!” the monkey barked, barely concealed grin in his voice. It had been forever since there was company on the island. If they were going to stay, he may as well help give them a fighting chance. And so the human and the dragon followed the spirit through the jungle, moving ever closer to the mountainous heart of the island.

[shibainu2006]

Sunsets in Georgia

Author's note: I had a lot of fun with this!

@killersweetie

@love-thanatopsis

@captain-liminal

The school day was nearing its end.

Reign sat in history class, a bored expression adorning her features.

As Trein handed out study guides and homework, she sat, deep in thought.

Everything seemed to remind her of home...

Her heart ached at the thought of her family.

Even sitting in the classroom made her remember home.

A faint voice called to her, "Prefect?"

Ace... He and Deuce looked worried.

Grim, not so much, "You spacin' out again, henchman?" He crossed his arms, swaying his tail gently as he stood on the desk staring right at her.

Reign quickly snapped out of her homesick daze, coming back to reality, "Sorry. Didn't mean to lose focus like that."

Deuce tilted his head at her, wondering if something was wrong, "You okay?" He asked, "You've been in your own little world the entire class. Usually you at least snap out of it when class is almost over."

"Ah, yes.. I guess I'm just a bit tired." She rubbed the back of her neck.

Perhaps she was tired. Exhausted even.

Reign had been sleeping just fine, though... I couldn't be that.

Something else?

This feeling was familiar, but she couldn't place her finger on it.

"If you're sure.." Deuce wouldn't worry about it if she didn't want him to.

Neither would Ace, "C'mon! We said we'd hang out after school!" The ginger spoke with excitement.

Grim nodded, "I'm gonna get a bunch of tuna while we're out!"

Reign shook her head, fiddling with the sleeve of her hoodie.

She didn't really feel like going...

"You guys go on without me. I'm far too exhausted to do anything else."

"Are ya sure?" Ace asked.

Was she alright?

"Yeah. Go ahead." Reign encouraged them.

They merely nodded, leaving the classroom without her to go and have fun.

The prefect packed her things neatly into her bag, starting to space out once more.

She sank further into her mind, thinking of how she would always be the last to leave class back in her world.

Slow, and easy going as the bell rang and teens rushed to get home.

The hallways bustled with life, and students were rowdy.

They would yell swear words and often make it harder to get to the bus by blocking the way, but Reign always got through.

By the time she tuned back into her surroundings, she found herself standing below the tree in front of Ramshackle.

The evening was quite beautiful.

Nostalgic, almost.

Reign took a good look at the sky above her, emotions washing over her mind like ocean waves.

The sky was painted in warm colors, almost like a blanket.

Clouds danced in the sky, fading into the oranges and yellows that blended together like watercolors.

The sun did not blaze with a blinding light the way it did midday.

It seemingly sank into the ground below, just as tired as she was.

Reign felt weight heavy on her chest.

The sight of it made her want to cry.

She remembered when she was small, living with her grandmother.

Summer break was nearly over, and her dear friends, who lived just down the street, had come to play.

They drew with chalk on the concrete driveway, leading up to the garage of a large house built with bricks.

Dolls were scattered around them, and two bikes were parked right at the mail box.

The cheery voices of her peers rang in her head, along with her own.

The face of a girl and her brother smiling right at her flashed in her mind.

Her name was called by an older woman.

She looked a bit like her, but her hair was gray, and she was a bit taller.

"It's time to eat, Reign!" She told her.

It was her grandmother.

A much smaller girl stood next to her.

She looked a lot like Reign, with a much rounder face.

Her little sister.

Reign stood up, waving goodbye to her friends, who had already begun to ride home.

Her grandmother picked up the chalk and dolls, taking them back inside, whilst Reign and her sister followed suit.

This... This memory...

She wanted to relive it once more...

Her chest tightened, and her eyelids suddenly felt heavy.

Her eyes stung, and she felt her nose become runny.

The thought of her own house, which she worked hard to get lingered as well.

Her home was made from wood, dark and cozy.

The sun setting right behind the spacious backyard, as Reign sat in a chair as her art desk on the porch, sketching what she saw.

The porch had all kinds of plants growing in pots, well taken care of and adding to its aesthetic.

The yard's grass was bathed in the sunlight, swaying gently in the wind.

Her heart squeezed itself in her chest.

She felt... almost melancholy remembering these things.

Reign felt something wet running down her cheeks, suddenly.

She was crying...

She missed home...

The prefect snapped out of her thoughts, once again back in reality.

Her vision was obscured by the tears in her eyes.

Oh, how she longed for that sunset...

That southern sunset that was rivaled by no other...

The sunset that only Georgia could offer.

She wanted so badly to be enveloped by the breeze...

To hear crickets chirping and see birds migrating in the distance.

That warm air... She craved it.

Reign sniffed, taking her glasses off and whiping her tears with her sleeve.

She wanted to go home...

The more she thought about it, the heavier the pressure on her chest became.

Home...

Ever since she came to Twisted Wonderland, she hadn't felt at home.

It had been anything but welcoming.

All the overblotting..

She had nearly forgotten what peace was.

Most all the activities included magic, which she didn't have.

All Reign ever did was sit on the sidelines and watch.

Unmoving...

Unbothered..

Untouched.

She only played mother to those around her.

How truly unfortunate she had become, to forget about home...

To only just now remember what she left...

Eventually, all her emotions numbed themselves, and her expression was that of emptiness.

She longed for that warmth.

That sunset.

She wanted to see it.

It would never happen, though.

Crowley didn't know how to send her home, and she certainly didn't hold it against him.

Reign walked into Ramshackle, closing the door behind her and locking it.

What an annoying day...

The end~

[quitethepirategal]

                          Plotted Starter   ~   { @elxgantcaptain }

   This had to be it.        Her compass never steered her wrong.

   Hazel eyes flick up from the magic compass in question, and calloused fingers snap it shut with a twirl.  She was here, Sugar Tooth Isle, a sand bar with hardly enough space or vegetation to be an island and aptly named for the massive sea rocks full of holes and arches at it’s center.  It was a tiny sneeze of land and honestly a beautiful formation geologically speaking... It kind of did look like a giant cavity ridden tooth if you squinted... and the swaying palm trees and nearly artistic composition of the brush and vines absolutely made the place a perfect subject for a painting.  As if it wasn’t picturesque enough, the rain had finally stopped, and the dark clouds broke just along the horizon in a strip of brilliant blue to the west while the sky retained it’s dark and moody lighting. The perfect recipe for a brilliant sunset in a few hours time.  Good thing she brought her watercolors!

   Weathered boots hopped eagerly from the wet hull of the little pink boat and onto the slushy grey-peach sand.  It was a tiny, barley sea worthy single sail but hey, the trip was a short one and the prize was too good to pass up.  Jess had enough money from the Mortared Petals and enough left over treasure from her previous captaincy; treasure was nice but these days it was information she was after.  Tomes, scrolls, maps, charts, essays, journals, BOOKS; those were the real treasure in a world so vast, and there was only so much one could rescue from Magpie Point.  See, rumor had it that a years dead Captain named Larry Leather-Knot had himself an affinity for literature.  Most captains bury treasures of gold and silver all the time but it was said that he buried his books as well.  Who knows what they could be; poetry, research, novels, guides, and who knows if there was any buried books at all.  Either way, there was still the possibility of treasure, and a new island to paint and survey in the worst case.  But was a rumor from an elderly customer of hers worth a two day solo sail?  Well...

     There was only one way to find out.

   The librarian finished tying her little boat to a tree and wiped her hands together with a satisfied smile.  It’ll be hell trying to shove the thing back into the ocean come low tide but she didn’t mind spending the night.  Shedding her coat and rolling up her sleeves she pulled out her notebook and gave it a once over.  What did that old pirate say?  She flipped to the page where she wrote down what he knew. In grey ink she’d scratched;

     “- Enter tooth from creek side ( waterfal? )       - Go to middle o the toothe,       - find arch were see the sunset / moonset thru it ( westish )       - Turn complealy round ( 180 d )       - Look up / climb ledge ( why up not buried? no water damage? )       - Best take treasr out in trips ”

   .....Right.... Easy enough.  But there was no telling where this creek was and Jess couldn't make out any water from the beach other than the stripes left by the rain.  Must be on the other side of the Isle, she thought, trading the notebook for a machete and stepping at last into the water-slicked brush.  Looks like she had to take the long way.  But she had all day anyway so, why hurry?  The brush was beautiful and the rain clouds brought cool breezes.  Why worry about time or tide, right?

                                      After all...                                                        she had the whole island to herself.....      

[humbeestix]

Part of chapter one of my Lego Monkie Kid pirate au!!

With lands far across the world, surrounding it was an ocean never left unexplored. The independence that had replenished the people and creatures alike was a yearning. This hunger for adventure was mouth-watering to those who felt like ghosts. The risks sounded exhilarating to some. However, something was left unseen- the true meaning of being a pirate. The stories that may have seemed to finish, there will always be a new one to start at sea. Those who dare indulge in piracy have that spark in their hearts. But with that spark comes a risk. 

A mysterious, mystical territory of the sea too dangerous to enter holds supernatural beings and treasures no mortal has seen. All are trapped in the cage, never to escape. Explorers have tried to venture off to uncover the secrets held at sea, but all are left to fail. Only the best of the best can navigate through the maze. But who?

The sunset light peaked through the cracks of the alleyways between the stone houses, slowly beginning to retire back into the mountains. Today was a special day, one of tremendous advancement and celebration. The mass of people swallowed the outside of the tired, stoned castle, placed looking over the village from a hill. The palace was large, and some parts were isolated, making it too easy to slink inside. 

“We go through here!” a voice echoed from the dim alleyway. Following behind stacked barrels modeled five men, all crouched around each other in a circle. The sound of laughter and music screamed from outside the alley. The villagers followed in a line. The footsteps beat against the pebbles and soil of the dirt trail, pursuing up the ridge to the ruler's castle. The locals were oblivious to what was going on behind the scenes, but the men knew if caught, it would be the end of them all.

Those natural worries a typical person would fear did not weaken the boys. The scars painted on their bodies have shown stories and adventures such as this one. Tracing back to what the man had stated, he dragged his pointer finger along a poor map in the middle of them, modeled after the village. His finger landed on the side of the castle, confusing as it is, likely to be the most isolated area. The map itself was nothing special. With badly-done sketches, it looked rushed. As filthy as the map was, it would suffice for them.

A tanned skin boy cleared his throat, “Hey, Cap’n Wukong. What are we looking at exactly?” the boy spoke in a hushed tone, adjusting himself to sit fully criss-cross on the stoned ground escaping from his crouched position. He pointed to where his captain's finger was, sheepishly laughing.

“What are you going on about, sport? It's the palace!” Wukong claimed with a grin.

The boy opened his mouth before a pig demon’s head jerked in front of the boy. “Mk is trying to say that we don't know what we’re looking at. It looks like a bunch of scribbles on a piece of paper.” 

“Hey, I went off description by what captain said. You try doing that. You see how hard it is!” a man in glasses yelled from beside the pig man, giving him a stern glare. He snapped his head away, “I'm a fantastic artist.”

The pig demon knitted his eyes brows together. He only rolled his eyes and let out a small puff of air through his nose before paying his full attention to the captain, not hearing a word out of him in a while.

“Come on, just let ol’ cap’n finish!” A muscular fish demon spoke up, shaking his head.

Wukong had been sitting there like a statue as he had been waiting for the others to finish up. He grimaced before his usual bright smirk plastered on his face again, “We done? Good, and thank you, Sandy!” Wukong spoke with a cocky tone tracing his tongue, “Anyways, I’m - well- pointing at the side of the castle, you listening? There’s a little egress window some of us can go through that leads to the winery. I know this place, like the back of my hand,” he said, calmly waving everyone off as if it was no bigger deal than it was initially. Confidence radiated from his light expression like the sun on a warm summer day, “Not to brag or anything. But I stole from this place so many times. We got caught once in a Blue Moon, but the escape was even more exhilarating! The King is so mad at me right now it’s wild.”

“Is this why most of the crew is gone?” the older man in glasses spoke up. He adjusted his glasses upward to fit better on his round face as he gave Wukong a cocky look. He managed to get a chuckle out of a few of the others.

Wukong quickly reached for his chest dramatically, “My, Tang, how cruel of you. You have wounded your captain. Who you should not be oh-so rude to, mister,” he scolded playfully, watching as Tang got up. He scrunched up his face, seeing as the man had completely ignored him. 

“Taken by the map, I don't think we could even reach the palace without being seen with all these people around,” Tang explained straightforwardly, turning his head back to the others. He then strolled to the edge of the alleyway and crept his head outside, watching the crowd walk by. 

The pig demon stood up with a groan, “I agree with Tang here. How are we supposed to sneak inside, Cap’n?” he asked, walking over to Tang. 

Wukong jumped up with a short laugh. He ran over to the two men and wrapped his arms around their shoulders. The men let out a low grumble in protest. From the faint squint of their captain’s eyes, Tang could see that his captain seemed not to be showing any further steps. Moments later, Tang noticed the primate's face light up. He had an idea.

Mk soon followed them, placing a hand on Wukong’s back, “So, what are we thinking?” he questioned with a smile. 

“Follow me, crew,” he looked at the boys as their faces stirred into a glimpse of interest. He kept his head low, pulling his hat over his eyes as he walked into the ocean of people.

The pig demon gasped, “Captain!” he yelled, stomping his foot. Thankfully for them, the music and chatter had drowned the demon’s screams. He turned to the others, “Moron, don’t just jump right into- ARG! He’s going to get us all killed!”

“Come on, Pigsy,” Sandy hummed calmly, “let’s just do what he orders.”

“Yeah, best not to question it,” Tang spoke, rubbing Pigsy’s shoulder reassuringly, “anywho, who wants to go first?” that once calming expression turned into a sheepish smile as a nervous sweat built up on his forehead. He never wanted to go first.

[earthhennaca]

Flower Tattoo Stencils * Call (323) 460-7333 | Earth Henna

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We are lovers of body art. We provide kits for beautiful and long lasting henna and jagua temporary tattoos. There is no PPD in Earth Henna products -- only pure henna from a Moroccan farm, and superior-quality jagua juice from the Amazon!

History Established in 1996. In 1996, we I opened the first temporary henna tattoo studio in the US. We wanted to provide an easy-to-use henna tattoo kit for home use. The search for good-quality henna took us to the outer limits of the Sahara desert, where I met a Berber family of henna farmers in Morocco. I watched them harvest the plant and bring it to the mill then sift through them to ensure a flawless application. After working tirelessly to find the best recipe, and going through cosmological testing. Our henna came back 100% approved, we threw a party! Thus was born our flagship product, the Original Earth Henna Body Painting Kit. Popular as this product was, we still searched for a temporary tattoo that presented a black stain. My journey to find the solution led me to the Matsés Indians deep in the heart of the jungle. After being introduced to the Jagua fruit, we again found a way to package the jagua extract and test it for safety. Thus was born the Earth Jagua Black Temporary tattoo kit!

Carine Fabius was born in Port-au-Prince, Haiti. At the age of eight, she moved with her family to New York, where she grew up until she heard the call of Miami's warm ocean and clear blue skies. In 1986 she moved to Los Angeles, where she worked in the public relations arena and later opened Galerie Lakaye, a home gallery now over 15 years old, which offers art from the Caribbean and Latin America.

Ms. Fabius is involved in many creative endeavors, including running Lakaye Studio, which manufactures a line of henna body painting kits; creating a line of one-of-a-kind jewelry designs; and curating independent museum exhibits -- but she enjoys writing best. She is the author of Mehndi: The Art of Henna Body Painting and Ceremonies for Real Life. She lives in Hollywood, California, with her French sculptor husband Pascal Giacomini and Tulip the dog and Scotch the cat.

Ms. Fabius is a regular contributor to several online blogs, including The Huffington Post and Bonjour Paris.